Numb
by Ruby Rosetta Red
Summary: Was Wyndam really afraid of Hal? What do you think? This is my interpretation of how Wyndam and Lord Harry could've theoretically crossed paths. AU and supposition used where necessary.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a new fic from me, it's length as yet undetermined. This is my interpretation of young Hal, the newly turned vampire with a lot of AU and supposition thrown in. Updates may be slow. The recognisable characters of Being Human belong to Lord Toby Whithouse and his band of merry and scarily talented writers, i just like to play with them once in a while but i always put them back where i find them. All errors are my own and unintentional **

**Fergus's quote below from the season 4 episode _The Graveyard Shift_ always sat a little bit uneasily with me regarding Wyndam. The Wrath of God had five hundred years age wise on Lord Harry and maybe what Fergus said was his own personal opinion but i don't believe for a single second that Wyndam was scared of him. This fic is my own interpretation of how Wyndam and Hal may have crossed paths. Love to hear your thoughts, if any :) **

**For Lady Athenais. **

* * *

**Numb.**

"_**I think the others are scared of him. Ivan, Wyndam, Jacob. Even Hettie. Not Mr Snow obviously. Sometimes I think the only demon worse than him must be the one he's running from… " **_

_**The Present…**_

Nervous trepidation fills him as he follows Tom and Alex into the warehouse. If he had any sort of heartbeat then right now it would be loud enough for everyone to hear. His breathing is shallow as they creep along and then pause. As Hal turns to look, his eyes widen and fear pools coldly in the pit of his stomach when he sees Snow seated behind the long narrow table, holding court like the monarch he aspires to be. His mouth goes dry and he licks his lips as his eyes skip over the faces accompanying him. He knows them, he knows them all. He used to sit at a table such as that, more often than not on Snow's right hand. That was such a long time ago and he isn't talking about the fifty five years of isolation he's just emerged from.

Where is he? He feels his stomach clench as he almost desperately searches him out. He can't see him. Hasn't he arrived yet? It's very rare that they travel alone so perhaps he's been delayed somehow. He just knows that he wouldn't miss an occasion such as this one. Something feels off somehow and the uneasiness resting between his shoulder blades increases. He turns his head to look at Tom.

"We have to get out of here." he whispers to him and his gaze falters back to the other group. Under any other circumstances he would be here with all of them. Fear curdles inside of him. Snow doesn't know that he's here, that he's in Barry. Once he does then it's game over. He'll instruct him to join them and he'll obey without question. It won't be within his power not to.

He drags oxygen into his lungs as they emerge into bright daylight. Hal walks, he has to keep going, because if he stops then he'll go back to them, announce himself and rejoin the fold. Every instinct is screaming inside of him to do exactly that. His hands curl into fists and he frowns against it. He feels ill. He wants to vomit.

Where is he? He didn't see him there. He should be there but he wasn't. Why isn't he there? Where is he? His legs feel rubbery and he almost stumbles.

"Hal…slow down…" he barely hears Tom call out, his mind is busy, filled with scenarios and situations. What if he's already here, what if he's been watching him all of this time and he has been unaware?

"_Hal_!" Alex's voice is sharp with impatience and he pulls up short as she materialises in front of him. He stares at her in confusion for a moment.

"You don't understand. We must leave. If Snow is here, then the others will be too, _he'll_ be there, he has to be." His words stumble over themselves in a panic-stricken whisper and she stares at him strangely.

"Who? _Who_ are you talkin' about?" she demands and he frowns at his brain struggles to comprehend what he's just seen, what he's witnessed and the realisation that it is finally beginning.

"What's goin' on Hal…why did ya take off like that?" Tom sounds faintly out of breath as he finally catches up to them and it's then Hal realises how quickly he's been walking, so lost in his thoughts. He lifts worried eyes to his friend's face.

"We must leave. Immediately. They're here. We must take Eve and Annie and just…_leave_."

"The Old Ones…but you're one of 'em an' I thought you weren't scared of 'em?" Hal stares at him and his eyes widen.

"You don't _understand_. Snow is there, he's the leader of us all. This is business Tom. Once word gets to him that I'm here then he'll demand my immediate return and I _will_ return to him. I will obey him absolutely and completely without question therefore we must go…_now_." he can see that he has confused Tom completely.

"But you knew they were comin'…." Hal's frown deepens. He turns to walk again and freezes when he feels Tom grab his upper arm. He turns his head and he looks at him and Tom frowns at the expression on Hal's face. He's never seen him in this state of _panic_ before and he finds it disconcerting.

"I know…I know…I just…" He realises that when it is all said and done, he isn't ready to face up to them.

He doesn't want to face _him_ most of all.

* * *

_**The Past…**_

His head hurts. He needs to feed. Perhaps his head hurts _because_ he needs to feed. He doesn't know but his arm curls protectively across his stomach as it gives a low intense rumble.

His eyes take in his accommodation. By all accounts it is quite sumptuous. He has a bed this time with fine sheets and warm coverings and he is fed on a regular basis; more wine and food than he knows what to do with but of what he really requires there is no sign.

He hasn't seen Snow today and he wonders why. They were introduced a little while ago he isn't quite sure of exactly when but they came across each other and for some reason Snow has taken a liking to him.

He lies in the centre of his wide bed and wraps a sheet tightly around his body. He stares up at the high ceiling as the deep growl in his stomach transforms into pain. He feels every muscle tighten in response and the ringing inside of his skull intensifies. A cold sweat coats his skin. Snow has instructed that he remain here and not to leave. He won't say why and that annoys him. He closes his eyes and screws them tightly shut.

They pop open again when he hears a door open and he lifts his head off the pillow as he becomes aware of the rapid fluttering of heartbeat and pulse. He sees her and he slowly sits up and watches her as she comes closer to him. She's carrying clean linen but she doesn't look at him as she crosses the room and disappears through another doorway to his left that is partially hidden by wall hangings. He listens and at the same time shuffles to the edge of his bed. He watches her emerge and she's carrying his clothes from the previous day. She hasn't acknowledged him yet; she hasn't even looked in his general direction. He continues to regard her, his fascination growing.

She's a pretty thing with inky black hair that tumbles unbound and uncovered down between her shoulder blades. Her skin is olive tinted and flawless and he wonders at the colour of her eyes. He continues to watch as she turns in his direction and finally she looks at him.

Her eyes are a liquid dark brown colour and she is quite beautiful.

He watches as she bobs a little curtsy and he is charmed by her all over again.

"Your bath is ready Mr Yorke." her voice is low, respectful and accented. He frowns at her.

"My bath?" Her eyes flick to his face and quickly drop to the floor again.

"Mr Snow has instructed me to tell you that he is expecting an important guest and that you must bathe…and be dressed in time for his arrival. He was very specific." Hal barely refrains from rolling his eyes.

"Was he now?" He slowly gets to his feet and at the last moment grabs a sheet from his bed and he wraps it around his naked body not before he catches a glimpse of the girl's cheeks which flush a rosy hue. He bites back a smile.

"What is your name?" he asks as he wraps the sheet toga style around himself. Once more she glances up at him and then away again.

"Francesca…sir." she whispers back. He watches her. Her skin is smooth and unlined and she is the owner of a pair of full plump lips that just beg to be kissed. He feels lust warm him.

Maybe after he has bathed…

"Francesca…a pretty name. I'm Hal." he replies.

"It is an honour to make your acquaintance…Hal." she murmurs as she dips into another curtsy. He regards her with a half-smile of amusement before leaving to go into the next room.

* * *

There is a large oval tub in the centre of the small room. He catches the aroma of sweet smelling herbs that have been added to the hot water and he watches the steam from it curl lazily up to the ceiling. He sighs quietly, feeling the previous knot of tension begin to dissolve inside of him. On a table beside the tub is the neat pile of linen he'd watched Francesca carry in before, accompanied by a large cake of ivory white scented soap. He looks down at his chest and he sees the faded rusty brown stains that mark the skin, there are similar sweeping streaks down both arms and encrusted beneath his fingernails. He frowns slightly. When was the last time he bathed? In truth he doesn't really remember. One day blends into the next when living this existence. He sighs. So Snow has a visitor and that he must be made presentable. Another mentor he wonders? How many will that make this one? He forgets. He sighs quietly and drops the sheet and he climbs into the tub.

The water is pleasantly hot as he sinks down into its heat. He's surrounded by a cloud of fragrant steam as he stretches out and rests his head against the rim. He's discovered that he likes to bathe and prefers to do it regularly. In the past there wasn't much of an opportunity to do so but now he takes advantage of it. He closes his eyes and remembers the first time he'd undergone the process and of how loudly he had protested. It had taken three baths such as this one before he had been proclaimed clean enough and the indignity of it lives with him still. Now he's welcomes it, enjoys the feel of the heated water against his skin, of how it relaxes him. He likes being clean. He likes being clean most of all.

He turns his head when he hears the door between chambers opening and he sees Francesca appear. Hal straightens so that he can see her more clearly as she retrieves the soiled sheet and disappears again.

He sighs once more and relaxes back against the rim of the tub again. He closes his eyes and unbidden an image of Lizzie flashes into his memory. He remembers her pretty blue eyes and her long golden fair hair. He remembers her laughter and her smile most of all. It almost makes him smile in response but not quite. He frowns slightly and opens his eyes and gazes unseeingly ahead. He won't think about her. He takes a deep breath and instead he slides beneath the silky surface of the water.

* * *

A shadow flitters across his vision and breaks his concentration and he noisily resurfaces. Water sloshes messily over the rim as he sits up. He opens his eyes and turns his head and he sees Francesca standing beside the tub staring at him with wide startled eyes. He wipes at his face and looks at her again.

"What are you doing?" he demands testily.

"I…I thought that you might need…help…" her voice fades. Hal stares at her.

"M…Mr Snow instructed me to make sure that your every need is met…" she continues to stutter.

"Very well…" he snips impatiently and sees how she creeps almost timidly towards the table and she picks up a smaller square of soft looking cloth. Cautiously she approaches the side of the tub and dips the cloth into the water. He pulls his knees up beneath his chin and tenses when he feels her smooth the wet cloth across his back, between his shoulder blades. The herbal scent of the soap fills his nostrils as she moves the cloth backwards and forwards in careful smooth strokes. He can feel the water sluice down the length of his spine. He swallows, his mouth becoming dry. She's being so gentle, so cautious…

_Pain. Intense pain._

_I can feel fingers digging into the back of my neck. I can't move my arms. Hands slide all over my body, touching, probing, prodding, taking. _

_I'm cold, so cold. It feels as though I have no feeling inside of my body apart from this pain._

_I can smell him, unwashed and pungent. I can feel his skin against mine._

_Make it stop, God in heaven please make it stop._

_Another one. Oh God. _

_Pressure, pain. I feel my face being forced into the mattress._

_I can't breathe. _

_Such savagery and hatred in this act of possession._

_God save me. No more._

"_Enough!_" His body jerks as his roared command echoes around the room, bounces off the wall. He flings an arm outwards. Instantly Francesca stops what she's doing and staggers back in terror. Hal pulls his knees more tightly beneath his chin and curls his arms around them. He rests his forehead on his knees and closes his eyes. He remains like that for a moment, quivering and shaking, his heavy breathing rasping in his lungs and echoing around the room.

"Leave me…no…" he snaps out and she freezes on the spot. Slowly he lifts his head and he looks at her.

"Wine. Bring me wine." he tells her in a low strangled voice and he watches her scuttle out.

The ensuing silence is overwhelming as Hal straightens up. Usually he doesn't allow himself to remember that time. He keeps it all firmly inside of him as if stored inside of a locked chest but that memory surged free all because of a gentle touch. He takes a deep breath and he scrubs at his face. He didn't realise that he'd spoken out loud until he'd seen the expression on her face. She'd been terrified. He exhales shakily.

He needs to at least try to remain in control.

He watches Francesca return with a cup of the requested wine and he holds out a hand for it. Carefully she places it there before retreating a couple of hasty steps.

He drinks it quickly, gulping it down in one go. He holds the cup out to Francesca and then retrieves the cloth from where Francesca dropped it in the tub. He lifts his head once more and regards her.

"I'm not sure what…came over me. I'm sorry." his voice lowers to almost a whisper. He takes another, deeper breath and feels his control reassert itself further.

* * *

She stays in the room keeping a careful silent vigil as he washes. He scrubs every single inch of his body. Once he is finished then she stands beside the tub holding out a large linen cloth for him as he stands up and then slowly, carefully he gets out. He regards her sombrely and takes the cloth from her and he slowly wraps it around his waist.

"Thank you Francesca." His fingers brush against hers and he watches how her pupils dilate at the contact.

"You're very pretty. Do you have a sweetheart or a husband?" he begins to turn and he walks a couple of paces away from her as he secures the cloth more firmly at his waist and then he pauses. Slowly he turns around and he observes her. Her beauty is quite simply breathtaking.

"No sir, I have neither." she replies quietly. He's back in front of her in the blink of an eye. She flinches and gasps. He regards her, staring at her with a single minded intensity that is unsettling. He tilts his head imperceptibly to the side.

"Pity." She gives a cry as he grabs her by her upper arms and hauls her up against him. His eyes flash black and his fangs erupt as he buries his face into the curve of her neck.

His grip tightens on her arms and he turns and pushes her back until she is pinned up against the tub and he uses his body to hold her brutally in place. Her struggles momentarily excite him; he often feels the frisson of a challenge when his meal fights back but it doesn't last for long as he becomes more focussed on the task at hand. He feeds, his fingers dig punishingly into her arms as bloodlust overtakes and overwhelms. He gulps her blood down like a man on the brink of starvation and gradually she becomes weaker and weaker until she fades completely. He hears her heart finally cease beating and he slowly lifts his head, his eyes half closed, the lower half of his face red with her blood. After a moment he looks down at her face and he blinks. He lets go of her and dispassionately he watches her slowly slide to the floor.

"Hal?" he stiffens when he hears that familiar voice and he wipes at his mouth and his chin. He glances down at the corpse at his feet once more before stepping over her and leaving the room.

* * *

Hal stares at Snow for a moment and notices that he isn't alone. He doesn't recognise his companion but the way that he looks at him rankles somewhat. He tears his eyes away from his face to focus on his benefactor. He then remembers and he lowers his gaze to a point not quite floor level.

"Mr Snow…" he begins, keeping his tone carefully apologetic. His eyes lift up when he hears him sigh.

"Hal I specifically said that you had to be ready to receive our guest today. Where is that girl…I was assured she was a good and honest worker…" Snow's chilly gaze casts around the room and then sharpen on the doorway behind Hal and he sees how Hal glances over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I was distracted." Hal mumbles, his eyes lowering once more.

"Do you mean to tell me that _this_ is who you dragged me all the way from London to meet?" the visitor's voice drips with annoyance and condescension and Hal lifts his head once more to regard him. The visitor's blue eyes are pure ice and they regard him with clear and complete disdain. His skin is pale, his face narrow and sharp, bordering on vulpine. He is clad entirely in unforgiving black and it seems to award him a sense of presence. Hal swallows, his spine prickling with unease. Instead he straightens his back and lifts his chin and stares at him.

"You have me at a disadvantage _sir_…" he begins, his tone bordering on insolence and he watches the visitor's eyes narrow.

"Careful boy…" he snarls softly. Anything else that Hal is about to say in response is halted by Snow.

"How many times do I have to remind you that these people are here to help with your daily tasks and not for you to indulge in your…_baser_ instincts? This is becoming an alarmingly regular occurrence my boy and quite frankly I'm rather disappointed. I thought you had more control than that?" Hal hears the anger that threads through his voice and he lowers his head once more in a move of seemingly abject humility.

"Apologies." he whispers. Snow sighs in a long suffering manner that Hal is all too familiar with.

"Never mind. You need to dress and be in the Great Hall in fifteen minutes otherwise I shall send someone in to drag you out and believe me _he_ won't be someone you can eat." Hal glances up and he sees his eyes flash impatiently as he looks back to his companion. Hal lowers his head once more.

"This is why I wanted you to meet this degenerate Edgar…such an impossible child." he hears him sigh.

"Fifteen minutes Hal and not a moment longer." he calls out as they walk away from him. Hal lifts his head and he stares at their retreating backs. At the door the visitor…_Edgar_ pauses. He turns his head and he looks at Hal for a long moment. Hal stares defiantly back.

Edgar gives him a small chilly smile before he takes his leave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Many thanks to those who have read and left reviews. This chapter is from Wyndam's perspective. The character of Maria is my own and as usual, all errors are unintentional. In this chapter Wyndam feels his interest begin to grow. Love to hear your thoughts. **

* * *

**Chapter Two:**

"So…thoughts?"

Edgar regards him levelly as Snow hands him a small crystal goblet. For a moment he doesn't speak and instead he chooses to sip instead. The blood he samples is warm and fresh and it makes his latent senses tingle. Snow smiles softly, knowingly.

"Like it? There's plenty more where that came from. I have a whole family stored in the cellar. Rumour has it that a certain flavour can be…inherited." he pours himself a glass and then turns to regard Wyndam.

"So Edgar…now you've met Hal, what is your opinion of him?" he enquires. Wyndam sighs quietly. He and Snow have an odd kind of relationship. He's an Old One of the highest calibre, one of the most feared vampires in existence. In fact, come to think of it he probably is _the_ most feared vampire in existence. He should be on his knees terrified of him but strangely enough he isn't and he thinks that Snow knows this. Does this afford him a modicum of respect he wonders? He really isn't sure but he does not doubt for a second that he will turn on him in an instant if the situation calls for it so for that reason Wyndam never lets his guard down completely around him. He is always careful to show him deference and respect as well as honesty.

He allows himself a moment to take in his surroundings. They're in a small ante room of sorts annexed from the Great Hall. This is where Snow conducts his most private of business. Wyndam's eyes take in the luxuriously expensive tapestry that graces one wall. It shows scenes of hunting and bloodshed but there are no animals depicted, not of the four legged variety anyway. On the other walls are large oil paintings, one or two of them are of Snow himself and once more Wyndam is impressed by the age of the vampire in front of him. It would seem that he has truly been around since time immemorial.

A fire burns in large stone hearth to Wyndam's right. In front of him, Snow stands beside an overlarge table, a chair Wyndam can only describe as a throne with its ornate gold mouldings and thick ruby coloured velvet cushions behind it. The silence between the two vampires stretches.

"Truthfully?"

"You're the only vampire who is completely truthful with me Edgar; I like and have come to expect it." Snow answers smoothly. His voice is quiet, liquid and languid. Wyndam hasn't ever heard it raised to a shout before but he can imagine it would be quite a thing to witness if it ever was.

"What is so special about this one?" he asks instead and Snow blinks.

"He has potential Edgar, absolute real potential but he's rather rough around the edges. He needs a firm hand and stricter boundaries."

"And you thought of me. I was hoping for…" his words falter when he sees how Snow's eyes sharpen as they focus on his.

"You were hoping for what exactly? Time off? This is what you do Edgar, you assess the new recruits, the ones that I deem worthy enough of further…promotion. You're good at what you do and Hal…" he smiles secretively to himself.

"Hal could be something terrible and yet wonderful at the same time." he whispers. Wyndam regards him.

"I've only just released my last apprentice into the world Mr. Snow…can't Gabriel take him on or how about William?" he suggests. He sees the frown that begins to darken Snow's brow and he knows that his request to attend here has in fact just been a formality. Snow has made a decision and by reputation once his mind is made up then nothing and no-one changes it.

"If I wanted Gabriel or William to take Hal on then they would be here instead of you. No…it must be you, I will not brook a refusal." he takes another sip from his goblet and he turns and places it on the table. He skirts around it to sit down. He indicates one of the chairs opposite him for Wyndam to sit on and he does, slowly and cautiously.

"If I am to take him on then I need to know more about him. What is his story and where in God's name did you find him?" he does nothing to keep the disdain out of his voice. Snow leans back in his chair. He sighs quietly, reflectively.

"He was recruited by Alexei, on a battlefield somewhere. Somewhere… cold."

"So why isn't Alexei looking after his recruit, isn't that what a sire is supposed to do?" Wyndam demands impatiently. His chair is hard, he's had a long trip and he's hungry as well as tired which is never a good combination even for an audience with the feared Mr Snow.

"Well yes naturally but we hit a slight problem in that respect…" Again he reveals that small secret smile "He killed Alexei." his voice is soft but his eyes seem to glow with admiration. Wyndam can't help himself and his eyes widen in shock.

"He did _what?_ Why?" his voice rises sharply.

"I'm not entirely sure. He says that he became bored and restless but I somehow think there was another reason, one he refuses to divulge." his tone becomes speculative.

"Alexei was three hundred years old, how in the name of God was that young upstart able to end him?" Wyndam demands irritably. Snow gives a slow but elegant shrug in response.

"This is why I want you to take over…smooth over his rough edges, educate him. He has potential Edgar."

"If you're so enamoured of him then why don't you take him?" A brief quiet drops between them. Anyone else who would speak to him in such a manner would promptly receive a sharpened wooden stake between their ribs but instead Snow smiles tightly.

"I've been taking care of him for the last six months Edgar…it's your turn now." he keeps his voice low and then straightens in his seat as a sharp rap on the door interrupts their meeting. Almost immediately it opens and Wyndam turns his head as Hal stands in the doorway.

* * *

He remains seated as he watches the young vampire comes inside. At least this time he's waited until Snow bids him to enter. He watches as Hal approaches his desk and he pauses and he waits. Snow regards him.

"That's much better Hal. You look much more presentable. Sit down." he indicates the vacant chair opposite Wyndam's own and waits until he does so.

Wyndam takes the opportunity to assess him. He's wearing an outfit of light blue with accents of gold. It looks gaudy and out of place somehow but he supposes not completely unexpected. At least his clothing is clean and tidy. He's seen and been a witness to much worse.

He seems pleasing to look at, tall and slender bordering on undernourished. He frowns very slightly. He will need to fatten the boy up a little bit if he is to be of any use to him but he has what looks like strong bones and an interesting face. His eyes are mostly brown in colour but he did notice a mix of green in there too. His hair is dark and it curls slightly at the ends. Rough stubble shadows his jawline and his upper lip. He can imagine women finding such a look attractive but something inside of Wyndam tightens. He supposes that there is something to begin to work upon here but if he indeed killed his sire as Snow has reported then he will be a challenge too.

Wyndam never backs down from a challenge and he suspects this alone is the reason why Snow requested his presence. Slowly he turns his head away from Hal and fixes Snow with a steady look.

"All right. You have my agreement but I have a condition." He doesn't fail to notice the sly satisfaction that slides across Snow's face.

"Name it." Wyndam looks back at Hal to see him regarding him with a look of puzzlement in his eyes. He smiles thinly.

"If I undertake what you ask then it must be under my own terms and conditions. And it must also happen in England." He looks back to Snow and he waits.

"Agreed." Snow responds quietly as Wyndam knew that he would. He is after all, the best.

"What must happen in England?" Hal enquires. Wyndam picks up on the tension in his voice. He regards his new charge steadily.

"Your training." he responds. He watches the shock bloom in his eyes and his mouth drops open for a moment which he quickly shuts. Wyndam watches how his head snaps around in Snow's direction. His eyes are wide and wild with some unnamed emotion. It looks almost like…_panic_..

"But…I swore never to return to England…" he blurts out.

"And why is that?" Snow enquires politely but Wyndam sees the spark of curiosity in his eyes. His attention returns to Hal. His breathing is heavier now and he has gone very pale.

"England holds nothing but unpleasant memories for me. When I left I promised never to return." Wyndam watches him and despite everything he feels his interest in the matter begin to ferment. Whatever it is, Hal isn't telling the whole story.

"Unpleasant or not, they're no longer important. My base of operations is in England and you will accompany me back there and that is the final word on the matter. I depart in three days and you will be ready to leave with me then." his words are ice cold and just as hard. Hal's eyes go round at the instruction and Wyndam watches as for a brief moment he seems to shrink down into his chair before his spine straightens. Slowly he rises to his feet and he turns towards Snow.

"When I said that I would never return to England then I meant it, I meant every single damned word. You _cannot_ make me go with him and I will leave here before you do and you will never see me again!" he snarls at him.

Wyndam is in front of him in an instant. His hand wraps around his throat and he pushes him backwards. His chair tilts over as Hal's feet scrabble for purchase on the floor. Wyndam keeps moving and ignores the hands that scratch at his.

"You forget who you are speaking to _boy_. You have no say in the matter." Wyndam pushes his face into his. He slams him up against the wall beside the fireplace. Hal's eyes blink shut as his head makes a heavy connection against the wall. Wyndam watches them flutter open and fix upon his face.

"I've yet to see what Snow finds so _fascinating_ about you but I suppose in time I shall get to see it. You're under my command now and I will not suffer any disobedience or childish tantrums. You are _not_ the one in charge here." his voice drops to lethally cold levels and his gaze is steady and unwavering. Hal remains frozen in place, his eyes wide. Carefully Wyndam releases his grip on him and he takes a slow step backwards. He straightens the sleeves of his coat and sends a sideways look to Snow who hasn't moved from his chair but there's an expression of secret glee in his eyes. He sees him get to his feet and approach him. Both of them turn to regard Hal who remains up against the wall, staring at them both with what Wyndam can only describe as wide terrified eyes. He looks as though he's held prisoner against the wall by some invisible force. Once more Wyndam wonders what Snow's fascination for this fellow is because he has yet to see anything to even remotely interest him.

"We shall dine and celebrate this fortuitous occasion. Come along Hal." Snow responds and heads towards the exit.

* * *

There is a low hum of conversation as the trio enter the hall. Wyndam hangs back to allow Snow precedence and almost immediately all conversation fades away as countless pairs of eyes fall upon them. Wyndam regards them all emotionlessly. Some of the people present know who he is and he sees the wariness in their expressions especially when they catch sight of Hal at his shoulder. Wyndam glances at him and almost immediately Hal's eyes drop to the floor and he takes an imperceptible step back. Wyndam doesn't speak as he enters the hall.

He follows Snow towards the head table. He recognises all of those who sit there with him. He watches as they all rise to their feet and wait until Snow is seated. His eyes catch his and he waits. After a moment Snow beckons for him to approach the table and he does so, taking his seat at Snow's right hand. The gesture does not go unnoticed.

Wyndam watches Hal cross the room and he observes him joining two other men clustered at the end of a similar table. He sees how he smiles at them. One of them pours Hal a large goblet of wine and pushes it across the table towards him. He picks it up and takes a healthy swallow. Almost immediately the three heads are clustered together and Wyndam frowns at the perceived intimacy. His instincts tell him that something is going on and he has learned to always trust his instincts.

* * *

The meal passes quietly for Wyndam. He usually prefers to use these occasions to further his already extensive network of information. He has a finger in a lot of pies; he has informants dotted all over Europe and England. He demands respect and loyalty and he usually receives it without question. He hasn't heard of this Hal character and he should've heard about a fledgling killing his sire not long after it happened. It perturbs him that he didn't hear about Hal and Alexei and he wonders at that. As it is, tonight he is tired. He has travelled almost constantly from his base and his bones ache and he longs for a few hours of sleep. His cool blue eyes cast around the people present this evening. He wonders how long until he can safely take his leave.

"So you came?" Wyndam turns his head at the low very feminine voice at his right hand side and looks into deep green coloured eyes. They belong to an arresting face, cool creamy coloured skin, high cheekbones and he knows the hair is black as night beneath that hood. Once upon a time just a smile from those rosebud lips of hers would've been enough for him. That was a couple of centuries ago and he's changed a lot since then.

"I was summoned and I know better than to ignore a directive from Snow." he answers evenly. She smiles and he sees the gleam in her eyes.

"For our young Lord Harry no doubt. He's a bit of a devil that one." she turns her head and looks across the room to where he still sits in company with his cronies. Wyndam frowns.

"I beg your pardon, _Lord_ Harry?" she looks back at him and her smile broadens.

"It's a little nickname we've given him though he's completely unaware of it. Such an arrogant boy, it suits him don't you think?" Wyndam flicks a quick glance back at him as he reaches for his wine goblet. It does he has to agree. He keeps that opinion firmly to himself as he returns his attention to his companion.

"What makes you think that I'm here for him Maria?" he enquires neutrally.

"Why else would you be here? You operate from London, that is your kingdom and you rarely leave it unless Snow requests it. The last time you were here was to take on the task of taking care of Robert and how long ago was that? It must be at least twenty years. Hal is our rising star but he needs polishing and who else to deliver that special brand of enhancement but our very own Mr Wyndam." she answers. Her eyes hold his and her smile doesn't waver. Wyndam sighs down a flash of irritation. Despite her exquisite beauty and absolutely mercenary ways, she always was capable of reading him reasonably well. His answering smile is dry and sparse.

"Why don't you tell me what you know about our esteemed…what is it that you called him? _Lord_...Harry?" he takes a sip of his wine and he waits. He watches how she glances across the room and how her eyes settle on his newest charge for a moment or two. A ghost of something crosses her face and he can barely restrain a quiet sigh as he interprets the look. It seems as though old behaviours are hard to change.

"Still the same Maria…" he murmurs in a low voice and watches as her gaze snaps back to his face.

"He's an interesting boy. I was… curious." she demurs with a subtle shrug.

"I'm surprised you didn't take him apart, you're not exactly…discreet." He watches how her eyes gleam and she straightens her shoulders.

"Don't underestimate him Edgar. Snow is utterly intrigued by him." she confides.

"And why is that?" he enquires curiously. Her eyes fix upon his face and she regards him for a long moment.

"The story is that he killed his sire. He's barely five years in the making and he does that? Hal is charm personified when he wants to be. It's hard not to be affected by his personality but there's something behind those wondrous eyes of his…something almost _blasphemous" _He watches her as she talks about him and he sees how she seems lit from within just talking about him. Slowly he turns his head and regards Hal who is still with his friends.

"Who are those who he sits with?"

"Ah. They are his cronies, partners in crime so to speak. They are James and Louis and when he arrived here they took an interest in him, seemed to take him beneath their collective wing. He's let them take care of him since he got here."

"_Let_ them?" Once more his attention flashes back to Maria.

"Of course. They think that they are the ones pulling his strings but in reality, Hal is very much in control. He's the one in charge in that little group; they just don't know it yet."

"Interesting." Wyndam murmurs, watching the young vampire once again. He's witnessed the pair fill their cups over and over again but as far as he can tell, Hal has only had the one and after that first healthy swallow, he has sipped sparingly since then. He watches how he seems to observe his companions with half a smile on his face. Wyndam sees how as he lifts his head, he sees a flash of something in his eyes. It piques his interest.

"Very interesting indeed."


	3. Chapter 3

**Many thanks for the lovely reviews, they're always appreciated. The character of James Winterbourne is my own but the character of Louis is inspired by the same named character in the show (and thanks to non_canonical for the idea). In this chapter, we get more acquainted with Hal and Wyndam makes a discovery. All errors are my own and unintentional. Love to hear your thoughts as usual. **

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

He's well aware that his new master has been watching him for most of the evening. It has taken him all of his strength not to lift his head and meet his gaze head on. He wants to but something tells him that to do so will result in yet more trouble. His throat still aches slightly from their last encounter. He can't afford another confrontation so soon but he hasn't forgotten and he never will.

One day he will make sure that his jailer pays for what he did to him but for now he must bide his time, be acquiescent and wait.

Half formed plans of revenge, each more horrible than before are fashioned and then discarded in his mind.

"Won't you accompany us Hal?" his thoughts are interrupted by Louis and Hal makes himself smile, a soft non committed one sided tilt of his mouth.

"Accompany you where?" he asks, taking in their bright eager faces. He hasn't missed the glances that they've shared throughout the evening.

"We're planning to visit Mary…"

"Both of you?" Once more he sees how they look at each other.

"Well…she likes _you_ Hal and we thought…" James's voice trails suggestively away. Hal looks down into his cup. It's half filled with wine and he stares into its deep redness for a brief moment. He lifts his head and he looks into their expectant faces.

"I think that I must decline." he replies in a quiet but regretful tone. Their faces relay almost identical expressions of shock.

"But why?" Louis enquires. Hal stares at him.

In truth he just isn't interested. He knows that Mary is sweet on him. He'd have to be blind not to notice the shy smiles that she sends his way or how she blushes so prettily in his presence. She's a sweet thing with her long golden blonde hair and her wide blue eyes but he is careful to keep his distance. She is almost always constantly chaperoned so he can't begin to think how they plan to visit her.

Unless...

"She's so fresh Hal…couldn't you just imagine how she'll taste…just a little sip?" James hints and his green eyes light up with a malicious smile. It gives Hal pause.

"She's also the daughter of a local dignitary and if you succeed and take more than a _sip_ then we will most definitely outstay our welcome with Snow. Stay away from her." he warns in a quiet voice, his gaze on James's face is unwavering. For a moment uncomfortable tension stretches between them. Hal has no intention of being the one to break eye contact first. Instead he tilts his head slightly to one side and he waits. Finally James sighs noisily.

"You are absolutely no fun Hal." he sulks but Hal isn't taken in for a moment.

"I must keep out of trouble for the foreseeable future and any mischief that you create will not further my cause with my new guardian." he lets the disgust bleed through his voice.

"Your new guardian? Are you leaving us Hal?" Louis enquires. His dark hair gleams dully in the candle light. Hal sighs and looks down into his wine once more.

"I had hoped not but it has been decreed that I leave here and return to England in the company of the dour black clad _gentleman_ at the head table." His voice is thick with loathing. A moment passes and presently he becomes aware of a sudden heavy silence and he looks up and into their faces once again.

"What?" he enquires seeing dual stunned expressions.

"So _that's_ why old Wyndam is here…" James mutters and his brow wrinkles with a frown. Hal stares at him in miscomprehension.

"Who are you talking about?" Hal asks curiously and his friend sighs loudly.

"Your new guardian, his name is Edgar Wyndam." Louis interrupts, his voice lowering reverently. Hal continues to regard him and he ignores the slow curl of dread that is beginning to tighten in the pit of his stomach.

"If he has agreed to take you under his wing then you must have made a strong enough impression on Snow for him to summon him here. He must have important plans for your future Hal." he quietly explains and this makes Hal frown.

"Wyndam is important?" James rolls his eyes and stares incredulously at Hal as if he's a half-wit.

"Important? Wyndam is an _Old_ _One_ Hal…one of the upper echelons of vampire society. The story is that he was recruited at the time of the Conqueror and that Snow trusts him and his opinion above just about everyone else's. We'd heard a rumour that Wyndam was on his way but that's what we thought it was, just a story but it isn't, he's here and he's here for _you_." He sits up a little bit straighter.

"I'm curious to find out why." he whispers almost to himself.

"What are you suggesting?" Hal enquires curiously. He watches as a smile blooms across his face.

"I'm suggesting that we find out." he answers and his smile widens at the expression on Hal's face.

"And how do you propose to do that...approach him and ask?" Louis interrupts. James looks at him.

"How about we enquire after dinner?" he suggests with that grin still in place. Hal regards him and his stomach begins to churn.

"I don't think that is such a good idea. Like you've said, he's an Old One…he's strong and he's ruthless." this time he does sneak a glance at the head table. Wyndam is deep in conversation with his companion who Hal recognises as Maria.

"And as you've said, a trusted companion of Snow's." he tacks on.

"Are you afraid of him Hal? I thought you were fearless?" James goads softly. Hal leans forwards and he stares at him.

"I'm not afraid." he begins. He picks up his cup and he swallows down a mouthful of wine. He lowers it back to the table as he fixes both of them with a stern look.

"Nor am I stupid." he tells them.

"I have to wonder as to why you've been chosen and not either of us. We've been here a lot longer than you have and neither one of us have been afforded such an honour." James demands, his tone scratchy and irritable. Hal stares at him.

"If I were able to swap places with you then I would in an instant. I have no wish to return to my home shores but I've been left in no doubt as to where my loyalties now lie and unfortunately _his_ home is in England. I leave in three days." his voice lowers and roughens.

"Well…we've heard your story…" James begins and his voice lowers slyly and Hal's eyes narrow and at the same time his stomach clenches.

"And what story would that be?" he enquires softly. The two other vampires fall quiet as they watch. James straightens slightly.

"Of how you were sired. Of what you did to Alexei. You _still_ haven't told us why you ended him. You don't _have_ to do as you are told; you almost always do as you please. You could do to Wyndam what you did to Alexei." he insinuates and his voice is like a thread of silk. Hal's mouth goes dry. He lifts his cup and takes another tiny sip of wine, just enough to wet his mouth.

"What happened with…Alexei…is none of your business." he snarls very quietly and James makes a show of widening his eyes.

"Is it not? You ended your sire after barely a handful of years. What is stopping you from doing the same to Wyndam?" he asks.

_A hand around my throat and memories of fear long thought suppressed…_

"And what is stopping me from doing the same to you?" Hal suddenly hisses back and the look of bemusement slides from James's face. Hal watches him, sees how he scrambles for a slice of self-respect. He sees how his eyes turn into frozen chips of emerald ice.

"Likewise Hal. I could end _you_ and you would not know it until it was too late. You are a liar, you _are_ afraid." James snarls back but Hal remains unperturbed by the flags of high colour in the vampire's cheeks, the burn of anger in his eyes.

"On the contrary James, I think you are the one who is afraid. I may have ended my sire but you…_you_ are nobody and nothing." he replies, his voice drenched in ice cold contempt. He flicks a glance Louis's way but says no more as he slowly rises to his feet. He picks up his cup and makes his way to another trestle.

* * *

Wyndam sees him move away from his little group. Hal does not look happy; in fact he looks to be a little bit insulted. His cold gaze flicks back to the companions he has just left. The one with the red hair looks annoyed too while the dark haired one just looks…uncomfortable. Has one of them been annoying his newest little protégé? He sees the rigid line of Hal's back and a very slight smile curves his lips. It would seem so. His attention is drawn to the red haired companion and how he is looking at him, a look of mild speculation in his eyes. Wyndam lifts his cup very slightly and gives an imperceptible nod of his head in acknowledgment.

He thinks he must investigate this vampire further.

* * *

The dinner guests disperse and scatter to their various corners of the large estate. Some are residents, others are guests. Snow has taken his leave and uppermost in Wyndam's mind is the need to rest after his long journey and to marshal his thoughts. He has business that needs to be attended to and meetings to arrange. As he walks to his chambers, his mind is filled with the most important of matters.

"Mr Wyndam…" he is initially so lost in his thoughts that at first he doesn't hear the whispered entreaty.

"Mr Wyndam…sir…" this time he hears him more clearly and he pauses and then slowly he turns. He sees Hal's red headed companion from dinner approach him and give a bow.

"Yes?" The young man straightens and smiles at him. Wyndam doesn't respond to the smile and assesses him. Tall, slim; inherently pale with red gold hair and dark green eyes. There is nothing of interest to him here unless he possesses information that might prove to be of some use to him.

"My name is James Winterbourne sir; I wonder whether we may walk awhile?"

"I'm rather tired Mr Winterbourne, couldn't this wait until another more suitable time?"

"I suppose that it could sir but in truth it will not take up much of your time." his eyes seem to glitter and Wyndam's own narrow slightly. Then he quietly sighs.

"Fair enough but only as far as my chambers, if your business isn't made known to me by then then it will have to wait until another time." He turns and begins to walk and he waits for him to begin, wondering what on earth he could have to say that would be of interest to him.

"It's about Hal Mr Wyndam….I believe you made his acquaintance earlier today?"

"And what of it?" Wyndam asks. His tone is slightly sharp.

"I would like to ask of your intentions towards him sir…he's a particularly close friend of mine and when he informed me that he is to depart with you shortly for England then I immediately became curious…" his voice fades as Wyndam once more pauses and he turns to look at him more fully.

"Curious? I fail to see what business it is of yours of my intentions towards Mr Yorke?" He wonders whether Hal has any knowledge of his friend's approach like this. He should be insulted but as usual curiosity gains the better of him.

"But I suppose I must ask…" he waits.

"You must be aware that Hal has a …sweetheart. Someone he cannot bear to be apart from. Her name is Mary and her father is a local dignitary. She's human but I think Hal has plans to…make her like him…" once more his voice fades away and Wyndam does not fail to notice the faint gleam of malice in his eyes as he imparts this slice of information.

"A sweetheart? Interesting considering he doesn't really seem to be the type to harbour any kind of relationship with the opposite sex." he frowns slightly and turns to walk again.

"I shall take your words under advisement Mr Winterbourne. Thank you."

"Mr Wyndam…" James begins again and Wyndam stops and he rolls his eyes. He looks at him.

"It's well known that you rarely visit Mr Snow unless for a very good reason and it would seem that Hal is that reason. Your reputation precedes you sir and I wondered…whether you'd…reconsider your choice…of protégé?" the words seem to tumble over themselves and Wyndam blinks as he realises what Winterbourne is suggesting.

"Reconsider my choice Mr Winterbourne? What makes you think that these plans for Hal were of my own making?" his voice drops as the ice in his eyes intensify. He sees how James Winterbourne regards him, his eyes slightly wide but Wyndam can see the excitement and the _hope_ in their depths.

"Why should I change my mind sir? What could you _possibly_ hope to offer me in exchange for that favour?" he enquires.

"I can promise you that I would never let you down. I'm committed to the cause; I would be utterly loyal to you and completely obedient." James replies, straightening almost proudly. Wyndam folds his arms and regards him, a faint smile of amusement on his face.

"Utterly loyal you say? Does Hal know that you are here speaking with me like this? Do you think that he would thank you for attempting to usurp him? That is not loyalty that I am witnessing Mr Winterbourne, quite the contrary in fact." he watches the arrogance and confidence slip out of him.

"I can imagine you are loyal only when it suits you to be. I need someone who can be loyal to me, to our _cause_ no matter what. There must be an essence of absolute trust between a pupil and his master Mr Winterbourne and I have yet to see that from you."

"And you see that with Hal?" the words burst from James. Wyndam's eyes narrow marginally at his tone but he lets it pass him by for now.

"Not at this moment but I sense it from him."

"He killed his sire, after barely five years. How do you know that he will not kill you?"

"I don't and he very well might. It is a chance that I am going to have to take." he regards him steadily.

"I have observed him this evening Mr Winterbourne and I will say one thing and one thing only. However long he lives, whatever he achieves, he will be much more of a vampire than you ever will be." He smiles softly at his growing expression of shock.

"Now I must depart. Good evening Mr Winterbourne." He turns on his heel and he walks away.

* * *

The estate is silent in the depths of darkness. The guests have retreated to their chambers for the night.

That blanket of silence is torn apart by a frantic knocking on a door. Wyndam is woken immediately as the sound echoes around his room. He is out of bed and donning a robe in a moment but he is irritated at his sleep being interrupted. Whoever it is better have a very good reason for this disturbance. He throws open the door and prepares to give the intruder a piece of his mind but instead stares blankly at Maria who stands there. She looks equally dishevelled, her beautiful hair tumbling unbound around her shoulders. He blinks and immediately he is in control once more.

"What?" he hisses at her, his voice suddenly spiked with impatience. Her eyes widen in surprise.

"Do you not hear it?" her voice is low but indignant and he frowns at her.

"Hear what?" And then he does.

It isn't quite a scream but nor is it a moan. He hears how it fades slowly away and the pain that threads through the sound makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

"_That_." Maria replies.

"What is that? Why on earth are you troubling me about it?" Wyndam demands.

"Because _that_ is Hal. He's screaming loud enough to wake the entire estate."

"I don't understand…"

"He has…nightmares Edgar and when he does, he throws the entire household into uproar. No one can wake him from them when they occur. It is the strangest thing because when they happen, he looks as though he is awake but he isn't and in the morning he has no recollection of what has occurred."

"Really?"

"Really. You must speak with him; attempt to get him out of this terror."

"Me? I fail to see…"

"This will happen again Edgar and you are his…guardian for what it is worth. Maybe you can get through to him and find out why this happens to him before the household descends into utter chaos once more." Maria retorts and Wyndam stares at her. Then he sighs.

"Very well." he concedes and pulls the robe he wears closer around his body and he steps outside of his room.

"Which way is it to his chamber?"

"All you have to do is follow the noise and you will find him." she answers as another cry rents the air. Wyndam heads towards it.

* * *

He notices a few people accumulated outside of a closed door, two have their ears pressed up against the wood and they seem to be listening to something intently. He recognises one of them as James Winterbourne. He sees Wyndam approach and he straightens up and takes a step backwards. Wyndam stops before them and regards them.

"Nobody has tried to calm the boy?" he demands testily and watches how they look amongst themselves.

"We have in the past Mr Wyndam sir but when we have tried…Hal becomes violent." Wyndam recognises the man who has spoken as the other man at dinner with Hal and Winterbourne earlier.

"What's your name?"

"Louis sir." he replies. Wyndam regards him. He's tall, well made with broad shoulders, strong looking legs and large hands.

"Follow me Louis. The rest of you return to your chambers. Everything is under control here, there is no need for an audience." he waits and watches how they slowly, almost reluctantly disperse. He then looks at Maria who is hovering nearby.

"Stay nearby and be available just in case." he turns his head when he hears a low heavy thud. He glances back at Louis before he opens the door and slips inside.


	4. Chapter 4

**Many thanks to those who have read and left reviews. All errors in this chapter are unintentional, would love to hear your thoughts. **

* * *

**Chapter Four:**

The room is in shadows. Wyndam pauses and he listens. A moment passes as he concentrates and then slowly he turns his head. His eyes narrow as he watches Maria walk toward him carrying two lit candles, the flames guttering slightly as she approaches him. She regards him silently as she hands him one of the candlesticks. Wyndam accepts it and he glances at Louis.

"Stay beside the door. No one enters and no one leaves unless I specifically say so." he instructs him and is answered by a single nod. Wyndam turns his head back and his eyes scan the large room. It's very spacious for one man. He listens very carefully as he walks towards the wide bed.

He isn't in there but the linen has been kicked back and is half sliding off the mattress. Once more he feels the hair on the back of his neck prickle as his eyes search the shadows. The room is chilly, the fire in the hearth long since reduced to a pile of dark orange gold embers and colder grey powdery ash. He frowns. Where could that boy have disappeared to?

Then he hears it. It's a harsh intake of breath caught on a sob. It sounds like a child emerging from a nightmare and he wonders whether Hal has indeed woken up. If that is the case then why hasn't he shown himself? He turns towards its source and sees his shadowy outline curled up in the corner of the room closest to the room he emerged from earlier in the day. Slowly Wyndam advances towards him, the candle held out in front of him and he watches as he is painted a faint yellow gold as he comes into clearer view.

"Hal?" he keeps his voice quiet, frowning as he takes in his countenance. He has curled himself into a small tight ball, his head resting upon folded knees. As the light casts its glow upon him, Hal slowly lifts his head towards its source. Wyndam halts as he scans his face.

There is a strange vacancy in the young vampire's expression that unnerves him slightly. He seems to be looking straight through him. He's trembling violently, his body coated with a sweat that darkens his hair and plasters it to his face. Dark shadows bruise the delicate skin beneath both eyes. He looks distinctly…unwell.

"Hal…for God's sake, what is wrong with you boy?" he ventures towards him and reaches out to place a hand on one shoulder.

He sees how Hal's eyes widen in terror, of how he cringes further into the corner.

"No…no…" he hisses with wide terrified eyes.

"Please…no. Do not touch me!" his voice is a choked agonised whisper and Wyndam freezes. He curls his outstretched fingers into a fist.

"I will not harm you boy. I'm…worried about you. You need to calm yourself and return to your bed." Wyndam replies but the words seem to just bounce off him. Hal shakes his head rapidly. His eyes become glassy.

"No…please don't. I swear I'll behave…this time…I swear…just please…" Wyndam takes another experimental step towards him. He tilts his head to one side as he regards him. He feels unfamiliar apprehension slide through him.

"Hal. Let us talk awhile." he uncurls his fingers once more and he crouches down so that he is at eye level with him. It is the strangest thing. He seems to be fully awake but something tells him that he isn't, that he seems deeply locked into whatever prison his nightmare holds him. He hears his ragged breathing, sees how he trembles like a child. He reaches for him once again and his fingers touch his bare shoulder.

The reaction is instantaneous.

Something flares in Hal's eyes and his face changes in a moment. He gives a loud roar as he lunges to his feet and as he does he pushes against Wyndam and the force of it sends him tumbling backwards. The candle that he has been holding rolls away and promptly extinguishes and the room is plunged once more into dark shadows.

Wyndam blinks as his head hits the floor and for a brief moment he sees an explosion of white stars behind his eyelids. It lasts a bare moment before he rolls onto his side and sees Hal's shadow rush across the room.

"Don't let him out you fools!" he yells impatiently as he sits up. He gets to his feet as he hears a loud rattling thud, as if a body or two has made contact with the door and once more he hears Hal call out. As Wyndam straightens, Maria is by his side with a replacement candle, and she walks with him towards the source of the noise. He frowns, both rattled and puzzled at the happenings tonight.

He sees Louis pinned up against the door. He holds onto Hal, his huge arms clamped around his body. Wyndam strides towards him. He looks at Louis.

"Release him." he instructs in a low voice and slowly Louis releases his hold on Hal. For a moment all that can be heard in the chamber is the sound of Hal's laboured breathing as he falls to the floor in an untidy boneless heap. Wyndam watches him as he slowly lifts his head and looks up at him. He sees the expression of confusion swiftly followed by horror as he glances around. He stumbles to his feet and Wyndam sees his embarrassment. He swallows down his irritation.

"Oh God…" Hal mumbles. He glances down at himself and realises that he's only partially clothed. He shivers. Wyndam doesn't realise that Maria has moved until she appears beside Hal with a blanket from the bed which she wraps around his shoulders. Hal glances at her but doesn't speak. He looks to Wyndam once again and he waits. Instead Wyndam looks firstly from Louis then to Maria.

"You may leave us with my thanks." he waits expectantly as they do as he bids.

The door closes with a final click. The two men regard each other. Hal is slightly hunched over, gripping the blanket tightly with one hand, the whites of his knuckles showing vividly against the fabric. Wyndam scans his face.

"Sit down before you fall down." he instructs, noticing how Hal trembles still. The look Hal sends him is wary as he moves around him and slowly, laboriously heads towards the dishevelled bed. He sits on the side of it with a studied slowness that reminds Wyndam of a man with aged decrepit bones.

"Does this happen often?" Wyndam's voice is sharper than he intends it to be.

Hal regards him. His gaze falters upon his face but Wyndam sees how he grips the blanket that still rests around his shoulders.

"Don't take me for a fool Hal, half of the household heard you tonight, both Maria and your friend Louis were witnesses to what happened." he continues when it becomes clear that Hal isn't going to answer his question.

"In truth…I don't…remember. The first that I knew that I was out of my bed was when I saw you standing over me." he admits. His voice was low and Wyndam regards him.

"You don't remember? Do you _ever_ remember?" he asks. Hal doesn't reply and instead shrugs, a quick tight movement. Wyndam regards him and he sees the shutters come down behind his protégé's eyes. He sighs and quickly shakes his head.

"You need to sleep. The next couple of days will be busy as we become acquainted with one another. We will still leave as scheduled." James's words earlier about a sweetheart cross through his mind and it gives him pause. He looks down at him.

"If you have people to whom you are attached…then it is best that you make your farewells as quick and as painless as possible." the almost reluctant kindness has Hal looking up at him and he can see the surprise that flares there.

"There is nobody." he answers in a low voice. Wyndam doesn't reply, instead he just nods.

"It is best that way. Get some rest; it has been a very long night." Hal nods in response and Wyndam takes his leave.

The corridor is deserted as he strides back to his chambers. Despite everything, the boy is beginning to intrigue him. The fact that he claims not to remember this evening's happenings interests him especially. He saw the blankness in his expression, the emptiness in his eyes but at the same time he also saw fear. It was just a glimpse but it had been there. He wonders what happened to place it there.

* * *

Hal is seated on a smooth marble bench. The sky is pure blue in colour and there isn't a cloud to be seen. The sun is bright and relentless. He feels his skin prickle at its onslaught. Wyndam has told him that he wishes to see him today and has also given him leave to conduct any last minute business. The imperiousness of his tone rankles still. He's here to see Mary, to talk to her.

He hopes she won't be too long.

He turns his head when he hears her call his name and as he gets to his feet, he sees how Mary's eyes light up like candles when she sees him. He waits as she almost hurries towards him, and he clutches his hat between both hands.

"Hal. This is a surprise." Her voice is low but he hears it nonetheless. He waits until she pauses beside him and he casts a look at her chaperone, an older woman by the name of Edith who almost never leaves her side and at this moment is regarding him with suspicion. He should feel slighted by the sour look but she looks at everyone in the same way. In his least tolerable moments he thinks about flashing his fangs at her, letting her glimpse at the demon that inhabits his skin. He looks at Mary and he takes in her pale complexion, her big blue eyes and her golden coloured hair. He waits until Edith is out of hearing before he turns towards her.

"What brings you here Hal?" Mary asks. He regards her. She is by all description, heart stoppingly beautiful. He has seen how other men look at her, has listened to how Louis and James talk about her and seem to covet her but their covetousness harbours far more nefarious desires. She is a prize in the marriage market and she has told him of the suitors who have visited her father requesting her hand in marriage. He knows that she is waiting for him to make his move, to stake his claim upon her but that day will never come. It simply can't. He acknowledges that she possesses great beauty but it leaves him strangely…unaffected. It leaves him uninterested and cold but in the same regards he holds onto her friendship. It seems to be honestly and freely given and blindingly pure in his world of double talk and innuendo. It's something that he hasn't ever had before and he is reluctant to give it up.

Hal met her at a gathering that her father held for Snow and his companions. She was surrounded by a group of ladies all gaily clad and chattering amongst themselves like brightly coloured birds. He had watched her surreptitiously from the edge of the group, careful not to be caught out. Her freshness of complexion interested him, the flawless clear skin tinted pink, the full lower lip and as he got closer to her, the calmness in her very blue eyes. he was drawn to her as a moth is drawn to a flame.

She possesses a sweetness, a freshness that he finds fascinating. She doesn't stir him in the ways that she stirs possible suitors but there is something about her that calls out to him, that causes him to constantly seek her out. They talk about unimportant things under the careful guard of Edith and he finds that restful, unthreatening. Maybe it is that that he is drawn to.

Snow has warned him that their relationship must remain as a friendship alone, anything else will be asking for more trouble than he is willing to handle or forgive him of.

Hal regards her. She is dressed demurely as befitting her station and once more he is reminded of the gulf between them. She is waiting for him, the illegitimate son of a whore, to declare himself to her. Does she not see him for what he is, his true self? How can she not? He takes a deep breath and grips his hat even more tightly.

"I come with news." he begins. He pauses as her eyes brighten with interest.

"Oh. What kind of news?" she enquires. Hal watches her. He can hear her heart beating steadily and if he especially concentrates then he can also hear the steady rush of blood that accompanies it. It's hypnotic. His fingers tighten in the soft fabric of his hat and he battles down that more brutal part of himself. He doesn't see her like that, he doesn't _want_ to see her like that but nevertheless he still finds it difficult to keep under control.

"Yesterday I received news of my…guardianship and I am to leave within the next day or two. I don't know if I will return." He watches the shock cross her face and the colour fade from her skin.

"Leave?" she breathes and he nods.

"Yes. I am to depart for England with my benefactor, it is non-negotiable." he looks down at his feet.

"You don't sound at all happy with that decision." he glances at her.

"I'm not but he has instructed that I must accompany him and I must obey." he sees how she regards him with open curiosity.

" But...you're not a boy Hal…surely you can do as you please. Who is this..._benefactor_?"

"It isn't important who he is but what is important is that I'm not a man of means Mary; I don't have the resources or the opportunities to make my way in the world just yet. Mr Snow has decided that I must benefit from the influence of a guardian. There is nothing that I can do about it." his voice lowers to a whisper. It irritates him that once more in his life he has very little control or that he can't do anything about it. One look in Wyndam's eyes last night had decided that matter for him. He's an Old One and highly regarded by Mr Snow.

"You could come here. My father would find you a place in his household. I can ask him." Mary responds and for a moment Hal can't speak. He can't even think.

"Neither my guardian nor Mr Snow would allow that to happen Mary. I must do as I am bid." He stiffens as Mary reaches for him, her fingers grasp his wrists. They feel warm against his chilled skin.

"If my father were to speak to Mr Snow…" she begins but Hal quickly shakes his head. He looks down at her hands for a moment. Different thoughts, different possibilities crash through his brain, makes him blink, crowd his previously carefully contained thoughts.

"No Mary. Please, let that be an end to the matter."

"Hal…" His head snaps up and his expression is all of a sudden vehement.

"Nothing can be done; I am due to depart in two days. I did not have to inform you of this fact but courtesy demanded that I did. You have been a good friend to me Mary and I still struggle to wonder why." the anger fades from his voice at her hurt expression. She still holds onto his wrists and he looks down again as her hands slide over his and over his fingers.

"I think you already know the reason why Hal…if circumstances were…" her halting, shy words stumble to a halt as he slowly pulls his hands free of her grasp.

"_Circumstances_… what are you talking about?" he watches as her cheeks turn pink.

"Even if _circumstances_ were different Mary, your father would never consider me as a suitable match. I'm the furthest thing away from suitable you could possibly imagine." he takes a step back and swallows down the giggle that threatens to burst free. If only she knew just how unsuitable. He bites back an emerging smile. Perhaps he should show her just how unbefitting he is. Instead he clears his throat and looks at her.

"You must cast aside any such notions that you have towards me Mary. You must do that immediately. Settle upon one of the suitors your father has chosen for you and be happy with him. I'm not the man for you, I never have been and I never will be. You're my friend and that is all you shall ever be."

"But I thought…"

"All I ever wanted from you was friendship Mary, nothing more." his voice lowers but he sees the tears that burn in her eyes. He sighs and takes a step back and he shakes his head.

"Perhaps it was a mistake for me to come here." he whispers.

"Hal…" her whisper is rough and he freezes at her tone. She sounds…wounded. He frowns slightly.

"I have never pretended to want anything else from you Mary. I thought you knew that. I've never declared my intentions because in truth there weren't any to declare. I just wanted your friendship." And that confession sounds strange to his ears. He can count his friendships on half of the fingers of one hand. He watches the tears slide down her cheeks and how she fumbles with a tiny white little square of fine cloth to dab them away. It makes him frown very slightly and he wonders why she would cry over someone like him. He bites back the apology that rises to his lips and instead he turns and walks away from her.

* * *

The frown is still on his face when he returns to Snow's estate. Mary's show of emotion sits uncomfortably with him. He doesn't like any kind of sentiment and he always tries his best to keep his own thoughts firmly locked away. His mind casts back to the previous night and of seeing Wyndam, Maria and that damned Louis in his chamber and him without an ounce of recollection of how they appeared there. It isn't the first time that he's woken up not in his bed but possibly the first time he's had witnesses to that fact.

He dismounts and hands his horse to the stable hand. He turns and flexes his aching muscles. His appointment with Wyndam is soon.

"Hal…" he emerges into bright sunshine once again and pauses when he hears James's shout. He glances at him over one shoulder and begins to walk again. He is hungry and he wants to wash before going to meet with Wyndam for the first of their official getting to know each other meetings. He doesn't really have time to tarry with James and he still remembers his needles and barbs from the night before. Does he truly think that he will forget the accusations flung at him? He sighs quietly.

"Hal! Where are you going in such a hurry?" James's tone is slightly breathless as he catches up to him as they enter the main house.

"I have an audience with our esteemed Mr Wyndam." Hal answers coolly.

"I could accompany you if you wish?" James suggests and Hal looks at him and raises an eyebrow.

"Why?" he asks curiously.

"Why not? I'm curious and I'd like the opportunity to get to know him if that's possible." Hal barely refrains from rolling his eyes.

"I have the very real feeling that if Mr Wyndam wants to get to know you then he will under his own circumstances. Another time perhaps?" He strides away and James pauses and watches him disappear into the shadows of the great house. He takes a breath and chases after him.

"Hal!"

Hal stops dead just outside of his chamber and clamps down the irritation that floods to the surface when he hears James's voice again. He spins around and waits as he catches up to him.

"What now?" he demands and sees James's eyes round with shock at his sharpness.

"I said I'd accompany you to your meeting with Mr Wyndam…" he attempts to smile but it flickers and fades at Hal's lack of response.

"And I said another time."

"Hal…" James attempts to chide and Hal's eyes narrow marginally as he regards him. His expression turns contrite.

"Don't be like this, don't be so cold. I saw you return from your visit with Mary and you looked…sad." James answers. Hal's expression doesn't change.

"I went to see her to bid farewell to her. She's a friend, of course I'm sad." he replies curtly and he turns to his door.

"You don't have friends Hal." James's tone is conspiratorial, almost humorous. It sounds false. Slowly Hal looks at him over his shoulder.

"Mary was my friend." he enunciates coldly.

"She didn't think so. She thought of you as being more than a friend, a prospective husband some might suggest." Hal turns more fully around and his hands ball into tight fists. He wants to plough them into James's face but instead he forces himself to smile.

"Well we both know how ridiculous that suggestion is. Now I must take my leave, I don't want to be late for my meeting with Wyndam."

"I meant it when I said that I would happily accompany you…" Hal just shakes his head.

"And I also meant it when I said another time. I don't want any distractions." He turns again and opens his chamber door. He slides inside and closes it in James's face. James himself remains rooted to the spot.

The dismissal stings.


	5. Chapter 5

**Many thanks for the lovely reviews, muchly appreciated. This chapter is mostly a filler one. Conversations are had and an agreement is made. All errors are my own and unintentional, would love to hear your thoughts :)**

* * *

**Chapter Five:**

Hal washes and changes out of his travel-dusty clothes. He looks around his chamber and wonders what turmoil awaits him back in England. His stomach clenches at the thought. Perhaps he can persuade Wyndam to delay his return somehow and when his back is turned and he is sufficiently distracted then he can quietly slip away and disappear.

He starts when he hears the knock on his door and he is almost tempted to stay where he is, hide even until whoever it is gets the message and leaves him be. He doesn't feel like good company today. His life is about to change beyond his control and he needs time to think about it and find a way around it. He turns when he hears the door open and any words he's about to say die in his throat when he sees Maria enter. There's a glint in her eyes that suggest to him that she knows full well what he's thinking.

She looks vivacious and full of life in deep emerald green silk. She pauses just inside the door and leans up against it.

"You went to see your Mary today didn't you?" she moves away from the door and advances towards him. The fabric of her gown rustles with each step that she takes.

"She's not _my_ Mary and yes I did." he answers sullenly.

"And did it not go well?" he watches as she sits on the side of his bed and she stares at him with open curiosity. He just shakes his head.

"Ah. Well she was sweet on you, I can't imagine that news of your departure would go down well." she answers and Hal frowns.

"Why does everyone think that of her…that she was…is…sweet on me?" he demands fractiously and surprise blooms on Maria's face.

"Because she was, everyone knew about it, even you Hal." she sees how his frown darkens and her eyes widen.

"You _knew_ Hal. You saw it. You attract attention wherever you go and you captured Mistress Mary's attention and her heart along with it." she watches him curiously.

"Is it so difficult for you to believe that?" she asks in a low shocked voice. Hal shrugs.

"If you knew of my circumstances Maria then you would too." he mutters. Maria pats the mattress beside her.

"Then why don't you tell me about your circumstances?" she suggests and she sees the expression on his face. His eyes slowly widen, like a deer caught unexpectedly in the path of a hunter. She sighs.

"You're reluctant to return to London. I can see that clearly. And then there's the fact that you went on one of your nocturnal rampages last night too." she waits.

"I don't remember." he mutters, looking away.

"Or you choose not to. Something is going on with you Hal and whether you choose to share that with anyone is your choice but let me tell you something. Mr Snow has afforded you a great honour by bringing you to Edgar's attention."

"So I have been informed." Hal answers dryly as he turns away and Maria frowns. She stands up and she goes towards him. She gently grasps his upper arms and turns him around so that he faces her.

"You _have_ been. I know Edgar and while he won't admit it to me, he is intrigued by you already. He could teach you so much if you would let him." Hal watches her, his expression turning guarded.

"Such as what?"

"I'm not going to tell you, why spoil the surprise? You could very much benefit from his influence and his advice. Don't be difficult and ignore him or go against him, it will be to your advantage to learn from him."

"Is he aware of your support? Did he send you here to me?" his voice sharpens with suspicion and Maria sighs loudly and lets go of him.

"Of course he didn't! If he finds out that I'm here talking to you like this then he will not be at all happy. You know your own mind Hal and I'm telling you that you will be making the gravest mistake of your life if you turn his influence down."

"You make it sound as though I have a choice." Hal snorts.

"You always have a choice Hal." she tells him, her voice softening. Hal regards her for a moment before he shakes his head.

"No, in this instance, I don't. I have been told that this is to be my future; I have no say in the matter. A hand gripped around my throat and my head beaten against a wall to guarantee it. Nobody says no to him, except perhaps for Snow himself."

"Well he's here under Snow's command Hal, if he didn't think you were worth the effort then he would've told him. He thinks that you are." She watches as he rolls his eyes.

"And now you're trying to sweeten me up…"

"God forbid! I'm trying to make you see the _sense_ of it. It would not be for long. Everyone can see your potential Hal, _everyone_. Edgar can add a shine to it. Imagine what you could achieve with that recommendation? You could do absolutely _anything_." her voice lowers to a seductive whisper and he watches her, all of a suddenly transfixed by her passion. He is unable to stop himself; he reaches for her, his intention clear. His eyes flash black but just as quickly Maria darts out of his path.

"No…not this time young man." she tells him with a wag of a finger. He takes a step or two towards her and darts into her path with a grace that surprises her. He grabs her upper arms and pulls her up against his body. She looks up at him and her expression darkens.

"I'm not your whore…" She watches a smile briefly light up his face as he holds her tightly.

"Oh aren't you?" he replies and laughs as she pushes against his chest. At the same time she wrenches herself out of his grasp.

"No, I'm _not_ and I'll thank you to remember that. You have a very strange view of women Hal. Mary shows you interest and you push her away almost in terror. Is it because she's human or does her gold coloured hair hold particular memories for you? She could have been yours, yours to do with as you please. It's not as though you haven't done so with others in your path." she flings the accusation at him and sees the amusement evaporate and change into something darker.

"Be careful…" he warns.

"Or what will you do? I'm not one of those harlots you drain with your friends night after night. Nor do I squeal and faint at the sight of you unclothed. We may have spent a night or two beneath the sheets and a pleasurable time it was but it does not give you the right to take as you see fit. You try and you will see what will happen!" she snarls at him, her eyes blazing blackly for a brief moment. Hal straightens at the vehemence in her tone and the flash of warning. He takes a couple of steps back and his hands come up to cover his face for a brief moment. Maria watches him, tense as his hands drop and he looks at her. His expression is tired and defeated.

"My apologies Maria, it will not happen again." She continues to watch him, the tension fading to wariness.

"Oh yes it will, when your blood is up it will happen again but this time you are forgiven. Are you ready for your audience with Edgar? You mustn't be late, he detests tardiness." She watches how he rolls his eyes once more and hears how he sighs.

"Hal, it will do you no good at all to defy him, no good at all. He will always get the better of you." she approaches him and looks into his eyes for a moment before gently patting his shoulder.

"Go and talk to him."

* * *

And here he is. He walks into the large room that Wyndam has turned into his place of business while he is here. He enters cautiously and sees him at the other end of the chamber. His back is to him and he is observing something from the tall narrow window. Hal walks towards the desk that is already cluttered with a variety of messages and missives and he waits.

Presently Wyndam turns and the two men regard each other for a moment or two.

"You're here."

"I was instructed to be present and here I am. Did you expect otherwise?" Hal responds quietly. Wyndam stares at him and the faintest of smiles drifts across his narrow face before he takes a deep breath and straightens slightly.

"Quite honestly I fully expected you to ignore my instructions and do as you please. I expected you to pack up and leave of your own accord." He approaches his desk and looks down at the quills, parchment and ink pots that cover the surface. A faint smile tilts the corner of his mouth as he takes it all in.

"Even when I'm not at home my business follows me. Did you manage to conclude your own business this morning to your satisfaction?" He points to a chair adjacent to his desk and at the same time sits down behind his.

Hal remains almost stubbornly upright for a moment and he watches how Wyndam looks at him as he sits.

"Oh what is this? I really don't have time for this childish battle of wills Hal. Sit down." his voice sharpens and he waits as Hal finally does sit.

Wyndam regards Hal.

"How are you today?" he asks and he sees that his question has taken Hal by surprise. It flares briefly in his eyes before it is quickly masked.

"I am well sir."

"No ill effects from the events of last night?" Hal's eyes drop down to his hands which are loosely clasped on his lap and he just shakes his head.

"You visited your friend?" He watches how Hal lifts his head and looks at him.

"I make it my business to know things Hal. It's how I survive and have survived for as long as I have."

"And how long have you survived?" Hal enquires. The ghost of a smile passes across Wyndam's face.

"Why Hal...are you planning to do to me what you did to Alexei?" He sits forward and rests his elbows on his desk and regards him with keen blue eyes.

"I would say to that, try your best. In some cases older doesn't necessarily mean wiser but in my case…quite possibly. I'm older than Alexei, a good couple of centuries older and I've met vampires with reputations such as yours and I don't think any of them still survive, so what does that say to you Hal?" His smile broadens and he sits back again and then he sighs.

"I am not the enemy here. Snow seems to think that you have potential, that you need a little bit of refinement and while I'm waiting to see some of that potential I will admit to being curious about you." He gets to his feet, a sudden rapid movement that makes Hal flinch and he watches him warily as he skirts around his desk and heads to a cabinet gracing one wall across from Hal. He watches as he pours a deep red liquid from a decanter into two small crystal goblets. He turns and regards Hal for a moment.

"While you were out concluding your business this morning, I had several conversations with several different people, mainly about you." he walks towards Hal and hands him one of the goblets. Hal frowns as he accepts it.

"It's the strangest thing Hal, nobody really knows a thing about you, except that Alexei sired you somewhere near Russia and that you killed him. I would ask how and why but given what I _do_ know about you, I doubt you'd tell me." He watches how Hal reacts to his words and instead of looking at him; he pretends great interest in his glass.

"It is of no importance to me why you ended him Hal. You had your reasons and maybe one day you will share them with me. You're a mystery to almost everyone and that alone intrigues me." He watches as Hal lifts his head and regards him.

"What would you like to know?" he asks, his voice low and level. Wyndam looks at him.

"There is a lot that I would like to know but how much you're willing to share is another matter entirely. I know that you're from England and you left the shores within the last ten years. How long ago were you recruited?" he sits back in his seat and he waits for his answer.

"Six years ago, at a battle near Orsha…which is…"

"I know where Orsha is and Snow is right, it is very cold there. How did you come across Alexei?" Once more Hal looks down and his expression tightens briefly.

"I was a mercenary, a lowly foot soldier for hire. If a Muscovite lance hadn't got me then the cold certainly would have done. He was a surgeon on the battlefield and apparently he had been watching me, he saw something, recognised something, a darkness I believe he said it was and offered me eternal life. I was dying, I was scared but I was also…angry so I accepted." his voice is still low, barely audible but Wyndam hears every word.

"Why did you leave England in the first place?" Once more Hal's head comes up. He shrugs one shoulder.

"Why not? England showed me no loyalty so why I should I afford her the same respect? I left determined to prove myself."

"And instead you stumbled across us. A different kind of loyalty altogether."

"The kind that suits me more." Wyndam smiles softly.

"Quite. Drink up Hal, we have a lot to accomplish if I'm to transform you into the vampire Snow thinks you're capable of becoming." Wyndam lifts his glass in a simple toast and a slight inclination of his head and watches Hal do likewise and he tosses back the contents of the glass. His eyes flare as its contents sizzle through his senses.

* * *

Hal watches as Wyndam gets to his feet with both empty glasses in his hands which he puts back beside the decanter. He turns and looks at Hal.

"You're from London." he tells him and Hal stares back at him. His answering shrug is languid but Wyndam notices his expression become more alert, watchful.

"Your accent betrays you sometimes. To all and sundry it's as it is now, cultured and… careful but a different accent bleeds through on occasion. It's very subtle but it's there. Take last night for instance, when you told me that you'd behave, it sounded different, a little bit rougher. It isn't especially noticeable." he sees the shock and then the surprise blossom on Hal's face.

"But you noticed it. So I've changed the way that I speak, is that a problem?" Hal's voice is cool. Wyndam shakes his head.

"Not to me because it shows me that you're constantly changing. You adapt, you learn to fit in with those around you and you think quickly on your feet. All admirable important qualities for a vampire." Wyndam walks back towards him.

"Can you read and write?" he sits down again.

"Passably." Hal admits quietly but Wyndam doubts that. He'll recognise some letters and be intelligent enough to guess words but he doubts that he is able to write his name.

"You'll be tutored. When I'm done with you, you shall be able to write your name in perfect script and read the great novels of the day. You'll find it beneficial." Wyndam flashes him another tight smile.

"I have tutors in England. You'll be taught manners, etiquette and other such important things. I guarantee that by the time I'm finished with you, you will not recognise yourself." he promises.

"And I think that will be something that you will welcome." A brief silence drops between them.

"You started your life in extremely low circumstances, am I right?" he waits and after a moment or two, Hal slowly almost reluctantly nods. His eyes lift and he watches Wyndam warily.

"Now that wasn't so difficult now was it? Did the world all of a sudden end because you confessed to something so minor? No it didn't. Let me share something with you Hal. My beginnings were equally lowly. I was the youngest son. My father was a farmer, a serf so you can imagine, absolutely no prospects apart from perpetual hunger and slavery and death from starvation or disease before I reached full adulthood. My sire was a traveller by the name of Godwin. He changed my life, quite literally." Another faint smile crosses Wyndam's face.

"Where is he now?" Hal asks curiously and thinks of how old this Godwin must be. Wyndam shrugs.

"I have no idea. I left his care after a handful of decades and cut my own swathe through England until I encountered Mr Snow." He becomes still as he regards Hal.

"I know that you see what Snow has decided for you as interference but this _is_ for your own good. Snow is very rarely wrong about a person, human or vampire; he's lived longer than all of us after all."

"Yet you yourself have said you've yet to see any kind of potential from me."

"We met for the first time yesterday Hal, I haven't had time to see any potential, I'll get to see it once your training begins." He watches how he frowns.

"Don't you think that you require some…refinement? Would you be happy to eke out an existence such as you are, like your friends James and Louis? Aren't you interested in becoming your own man? Because with the correct influence you could be, you could be so much." Wyndam leans forward and watches him closely.

"But let me give you a word of warning. I demand respect, I expect it. I think after five hundred years I've earned it. Life with me will not be easy and you will probably end up hating me. I hope that you do because then it will mean that I'm doing my job well." His eyes gleam knowingly.

"I'm willing to teach you everything that I think you need to know but if you deliberately defy me, fool me or try to end me then I will unleash unholy hell onto your head. You will wish that you had died in that battlefield. Are we understood?"

Hal swallows down the reply that was on the tip of his tongue. He hates how Wyndam makes him feel, like the helpless child that he once was but he recognises an opportunity when he sees one. A door has been opened to him, a door that otherwise wouldn't have been available.

He nods.


	6. Chapter 6

**Many thanks for the lovely reviews. From this chapter onwards, things begin to 'happen'. All will be revealed in time. Would love to hear your thoughts. All errors, as usual are unintentional. Many thanks!**

**The font for this chapter may be smaller than usual, if this has happened, please accept my apologies as it isn't intentional and seems to be a problem with the upload. Fingers crossed all is okay. **

* * *

**Chapter Six:**

His mind is full as he takes his leave from Wyndam's presence. Once he left England's shores he had promised to himself never to allow himself to be in a situation where he was less than fully in control and up until now he has held onto that vow.

He feels as though he has just signed over what remains of his sanity and for what?

_For advancement, for respect and for prospects._ The words bounce around inside of his head.

All three very powerful reasons right there.

He frowns and wonders whether it will all be worth it. Is Wyndam truly the powerful vampire he claims to be and who James and Louis say that he is? Well if he has Snow's approval then surely the question is answered for him?

"Hal!" He stiffens when he hears James call his name and he pauses and waits for him to catch up. He glances at him as James slings a brotherly arm across his shoulders as together they begin to walk again.

"So, you are leaving us then?" He watches as Hal frowns very slightly.

"Have you been lurking in places you shouldn't be James?" he enquires and watches his eyes widen marginally. Is that a flash of guilt that he sees in their depths? He blinks. It would seem that he sees suspicion and intrigue behind every question these days.

"No, I was passing and saw you leaving Wyndam's chamber. Have you accepted his patronage or did you turn it down?"

"I accepted and while I felt as though I had no say in the matter, I've come to realise that it will be in my best interests. It won't be forever." Hal hopes that Maria is being truthful in that respect.

"You're a lucky man Hal, a very lucky man indeed and we must celebrate this good fortune that has fallen into your lap!" James announces loudly. Hal regards him curiously.

"And how do you suggest we do that?" James grins.

"How do we usually celebrate? With wine, women and song my friend, just a different kind of wine…" he pats his back.

"This way. Your celebration waits." Hal pauses and regards him curiously.

"And what if I'd refused to attend?"

"You refuse a celebration held in your honour? It hasn't happened yet. Are you planning to refuse?" Hal thinks about what lies in front of him and he shakes his head. James laughs.

"Good, you will not regret it."

* * *

He recognises most of the vampires present but not all of them. They greet him like a brother and James presses a goblet of dark red wine into his hand.

"From Snow himself, one of the best from his cellars, the wine cellars that is, not the other one." Hal looks down into the cup. From Snow himself? He takes a sip. It's delicious and slides coolly down his throat. He takes another, bigger mouthful and feels it easily slip its way down.

"Be careful, it's very strong stuff." James warns, his tone light. Hal turns his head and regards him.

"We're celebrating are we not?" he then turns to face the other vampires present.

"Then let the wine flow and we will celebrate!" he announces to be greeted by loud cheers of agreement.

* * *

He can't remember her name. He looks down at her and he sees her wide staring eyes. They're empty of everything except perhaps a flare of shock as his fangs pierced the soft skin of her neck. He closes his eyes as he moves back from her and wipes at his chin. He sighs blissfully and opens them and his gaze drops onto her. Blood still dribbles weakly from her throat and soaks into the linen sheet that has been draped over the daybed precisely for this purpose. He ripped the gown from her body in his eagerness to possess her, to feed from her and it lies in tatters at his feet. He stares at it for a brief moment. It's a pale green shade, thin and diaphanous, designed to reveal rather than enhance and she'd done a very good job of that. He continues to wipe at his chin as he pulls his shirt back onto his shoulder. He glances down at it. It is heavily stained and grubby. He stares at it for a moment and blinks as the blood swoon takes hold and fills his head.

"Hal…" He turns his head in the direction of the voice and he stares at James who lounges in the doorway.

"Don't you know how to knock?" Hal retorts irritably. He slides off the daybed and rearranges his clothing.

"I did, you obviously didn't hear me." James comes further into the room and he sees the dead girl.

"Well someone had a good time. You didn't leave anything for me?" Hal glances at him.

"I wasn't aware that I had to share." he answers.

"You don't share Hal, that's the point. Was she worth it? Judging by the sounds we heard, it was." His attempt at a conspiratorial tone falls flat as Hal ignores him as he crosses the room to where a jug and bowl await his attention on top of a wooden chest.

The water is refreshingly cold as he sluices it over his face and he ignores the colour that it becomes as he picks up the linen cloth beside it and pats his face dry. As he turns, he sees James wrap the linen sheet over the corpse. He frowns, he still doesn't remember her name but she knew his. She'd whispered it over and over again, her body hot against his as he'd ridden her. Her scream of ecstasy turning into something more as that raging lust became infinitely more powerful and consuming. Curiously Hal approaches James and stands beside him as he looks down at the marble pale face, drying blood splashed messily on her skin in his haste.

"Who was she?" he asks. He senses James looking at him.

"Rose; I suppose you could call her a kind of camp follower. She had her eye on you for quite a while; I'm surprised you hadn't noticed her before now." This time Hal does look at him.

"Was she? No I hadn't…" he casts another cursory glance in her direction and he leaves the room.

* * *

Wyndam lifts his head from his paperwork and he listens.

"What is that noise?" he turns his head towards Maria who is seated beside the fireplace, a book in her hands. She looks up and a mild frown wrinkles her brow.

"What? Oh…that." she turns her head towards the door. Like him, she can hear the muted sounds of loud laughter and the cheers that fill the air. A half smile crosses her face.

"That is Hal's farewell celebration in progress. Considering what lies ahead for him, I think he deserves it." She sighs when she sees him frown.

"We depart in the morning Maria, I can't have him heavy headed and sick from an over indulgence of wine and blood." He goes to stand up but Maria is in front of him in an instant.

"Don't do that Edgar. He's having a good time. Leave him be for tonight." she cajoles. She smiles as his frown remains for a moment before slowly fading.

"I'm surprised that you're not part of this farewell celebration?"

"Oh James was sure to inform me that it is a strictly men only affair." She rolls her eyes.

"How tedious of him to insist, I'm just in the mood for a party." she grins at him and returns to her chair. She retrieves her book and sits down again. She sighs.

"James organised this celebration you say?" Wyndam's voice is sharp but curious and she looks at him once more. She nods.

"Yes, he and Louis, they wanted to give him a fitting send off. Why do you ask?" she watches the strangest of expressions cross his face before he focuses on her and he shakes his head.

"No reason. Very well, he may have tonight but we leave early tomorrow and he had better be ready to depart on time."

"I'll make sure that he is. Thank you Edgar." her voice softens. His eyes hold hers for a moment longer before he returns his attention to his paperwork.

* * *

His head is spinning. It is the strangest of feelings.

He can hear music playing and he turns towards its source but he can't see where it is coming from. All around him bodies twist and gyrate into what seem like impossible shapes. Eyes seem impossibly wide, mouths stretched and gaping. The music wherever it is coming from seems unbearably loud and it feels like it is vibrating through him. He can feel it pound inside of him like a once remembered heartbeat.

"Hal…" he turns towards the voice and looks at James. He carries two goblets, one of which he hands to him.

"I shouldn't…an early departure has been planned for me tomorrow." he tells him and James laughs.

"Yes, tomorrow but morning hasn't arrived yet. Drink up." he urges and he takes a sip of his own wine. Hal regards him for a second before he complies.

The alcohol charges through his system. It feels like his insides are aflame. He drains the cup and hands it back to James and he pushes his way through the crowds. He feels overheated all of a sudden, as if an ocean of fire is consuming him from the inside out.

It's disconcerting. He needs air.

"Hal…" he feels a hand touch his shoulder and he spins around.

"_What_? Why do you continue to seek my attention?" he demands when he sees James standing beside him. It annoys him that wherever he turns, he is there almost like an obedient little lapdog. It makes him angry and he feels it surge through him.

"Leave me be!" he snaps at him and he backs away. The other voices, the music all die away and a heavy silence is left in its wake. James blinks. He glances at the others present.

"I was just enquiring as to how you are feeling, you look unwell." he answers in a concerned tone. Hal frowns at him.

"I am perfectly well James, or I would be if you ceased to bother me as you have done this evening!" he retorts and he watches James's eyes go wide, almost unnaturally so. He wonders how that is possible.

"I have taken care of you Hal, after all this is your celebration." James responds his tone careful and for some reason it rankles with him.

"And why do you feel the need to take care of me James? Let me ask you that important question hmmm?" Hal demand waspishly.

"I always have, ever since you first arrived here."

"Did you think that you were taking me under your wing…is that it? I don't _need_ your protection. I have been taking care of myself for long enough thank you, long before I met you and your ilk and even before I was recruited to this life. I am not a child!" he spits at him.

Silence falls. Hal stands in the centre of the room. He regards them, at their identical expressions of discomfort and shock. He sighs loudly and shakes his head.

"What are you doing? Why do you stay here? _Why_ aren't you out in the world making your own mark? Instead you're all here, hoping for a crumb of attention from the head table. It would be pathetic if it wasn't so funny!" He looks at them, in their finery, drunk from blood, from the wine. He smiles and then a burst of laughter escapes from him.

"And yet here you are Hal, at the same table, begging for scraps." James interrupts stiffly. Hal's laughter instantly ceases as he rounds on him, fury replacing mirth.

"Temporarily James, that is the difference!" he retaliates and James's eyes narrow.

"You have Edgar Wyndam's patronage, _that_ is the difference Hal. Without it you would have been like the rest of us. Waiting and hoping."

"Well then, it's been my fortune that as of tomorrow I shall no longer be _waiting_ and _hoping_. I think the rest of you fall under that category instead." He dips in an extravagant bow and as he straightens he watches James approach him.

"You sir are quite drunk and as you have reminded us so eloquently, you have an early start tomorrow so how about I suggest that we end this…_celebration_ so that you may retire to your room?" he suggests. He lays a hand on Hal's shoulder and he pulls away. His eyes glitter and his lips draw back in a snarl.

"Do not think to patronise me! Do you think that I don't know what you call me behind my back? _Lord_ Harry…do you think that I don't hear how you laugh or not know what you really think of me?" his furious gaze sweeps around at the room's occupants. He sees how they lower their gazes or begin to turn away.

"You taunt me with such a name but one day perhaps it will not be the insult that you intend it to be. One day I will return and perhaps you will bow to me instead of to Mr Snow. Imagine _that_." he snarls quietly.

"Hal. Enough." James's hands rest heavily on Hal's shoulders and he looks into his eyes. His eyes are bright with anger, his cheeks flushed apple red. A fine perspiration makes his hair cling to his forehead and to his neck. James lifts his head and he glances at the guests.

"I think that it is safe to say that the festivities are over for tonight. Thank you for your company gentlemen, I'm sure Hal will be feeling better in the morning and apologies will follow."

"Do not presume to know me sir!" Hal hisses and attempts to shrug off his grip but James just holds on that little bit tighter and Hal pauses.

"You are drunk and perhaps a little bit indignant. Let me escort you back to your chamber." he suggests in a quiet, calm voice.

Hal's gait is a little unsteady as they return to his chamber. James keeps a careful eye on him but is careful not to touch him as they pause outside of the door.

"You need to sleep Hal, to be fresh in the morning. Wyndam does not tolerate lateness and celebration or not he will expect you to be ready on time." he tells him in a low voice.

"I don't need you to tell me what to do." Hal's voice is low and sullen and James regards him.

"No, I don't suppose that you do." he watches Hal reach for the door handle and just as he begins to twist it, he places a hand on his shoulder. Hal starts and looks at him. James smiles softly.

"There is a gift for you in your chamber Hal. Call it a farewell present." he murmurs. Hal doesn't immediately reply and James pats his shoulder and walks away.

* * *

His room is filled with shadows. He tries to ignore them. He doesn't like shadows, they're filled with menace and foreboding and things spring out at him from them. It's best that he doesn't pay attention to them.

He feels heat wash over his skin and as he slowly approaches the wide bed, he peels off his shirt. It is stiff from the blood of earlier and he drops it at his feet. He kicks off his boots and leaves them ignored nearby.

Someone occupies his bed and it makes him curious. They're quite still and unmoving but he can hear a heartbeat. He hears it force blood through the veins, such an enchanting sound but his mouth feels so dry and he turns his head and he sees the decanter of wine on the cabinet beside his bed. It seems to glow from the inside out, as if inviting him to drink it. He casts the occupant of his bed another glance before he heads towards the decanter and he pours a quantity into the accompanying glass. He sips it and recognises it as the wine from earlier this evening, the farewell gift from Snow himself.

He lowers himself onto the side of his bed and finishes what is left of the wine. So he must be on time tomorrow. He frowns slightly. He is already packed and ready to depart according to Maria. She will have arranged it, as if knowing that he had no intention of doing so himself. He doesn't have much; he has nothing of value to care about. He shakes his head as if to dislodge the direction his thoughts seem to be taking him.

He strips and slides into bed and the sheets feel blessedly cool against his skin. It's then that once more he remembers the 'gift' James alluded to and he sees the shadowy outline of it beside him. He turns towards it and his hand reaches for it. It feels warm.

* * *

The sun is barely over the horizon but Wyndam has been awake for a little while. His mind is filled with the day ahead, the preparations necessary and whether his protégé will be on time. He won't be surprised if there is a final, small show of defiance. Perhaps he'll pay a visit to his chamber and rouse him himself. He ruminates on the matter but decides against it.

He eats a light breakfast and heads out of his chamber. He needs to speak with Snow before he departs, he's sure that he will have one or two instructions of his own regarding Hal. He usually does.

* * *

"Are you ready to depart?" Snow enquires. Together they stand by the window that overlooks the front of the property. A couple of wagons are being loaded with trunks, provisions and other valuables. Wyndam watches the goings on almost absently. He then turns his head to look at Snow.

"Are you absolutely sure that this is what you want? For me to take Hal on and mould him?" he asks. The tiniest of frowns mars Snow's smooth brow.

"Are you having doubts Edgar? Usually you don't question my orders once they're issued. Is there something on your mind that you feel I should know about?" his waiting gaze is steady and Wyndam sighs.

"I just want you to be sure. For while Hal is indeed an intriguing young man, there's little known about him that still sits somewhat uneasily with me." It's his turn to frown.

"I'm sure you have your network of spies and informants hard at work uncovering whatever you can find out about him in England, I'm sure that in time all your questions will be answered."

"I sent a message out almost as soon as you entrusted him to me. There's so much work to do…"

"And you will accomplish it all. When you see him fulfil his potential and more, you will be glad that you did it…"

Any further words are interrupted by a frantic knocking on the door and both turn their heads towards it.

"Enter!" Snow calls and almost immediately the door swings open. Wyndam watches as one of Snow's manservants appears. He has a few of them, young vampires eager for promotion and prospects. He seems pale and a little agitated and Wyndam has to wonder what has happened to put him into such a state. For a moment it seems that he can't speak.

"Yes what is it?" Snow demands. The servant seems to come to then and he takes a breath and straightens.

"Your attention is required sir. It's a matter of utmost urgency." he almost stammers. Then his eyes slide towards Wyndam and marginally widen.

"Yours too Mr Wyndam….it's regarding Mr Yorke sir…he has done something truly catastrophic…" Wyndam feels his stomach pitch.

"Catastrophic you say? What could he have possibly done?" Snow muses as he looks to Wyndam. There's a faint smile on his face.

"It would seem he has killed…the daughter of a town dignitary sir…Mistress Mary." the manservant interrupts.

"You must be mistaken…" Wyndam accuses but the servant rapidly shakes his head.

"Sadly I am not. As you know, we have had regular dealings with the family since we first moved here and I recognised her…what is left…of her." he whispers. Wyndam and Snow exchange a look, the amusement has vanished from Snow's face.

"That…_boy_." he hisses angrily and strides away, leaving Wyndam in his wake.

* * *

The smell of blood is heavy in the air as they approach Hal's chamber. Another of Snow's manservants is standing in front of the closed door and like his colleague he is pale and somewhat shaken.

"Is Hal still in there?" Wyndam demands. For his sanity's sake, he had better be. The manservant nods rapidly and opens the door. Wyndam sees other doors begin to open as the scent of the shed blood has no doubt begun to garner curiosity.

"We've tried to rouse him sir but to no avail, it's as though he's properly dead himself." the manservant explains as he opens the door wide.

The scent is particularly strong here and Wyndam braces himself for a moment. He swallows and follows Snow inside.

"Good…God." Snow whispers in disbelief.


	7. Chapter 7

**Many thanks to those who continue to read and leave reviews, they are always appreciated. So, what did Wyndam find in that room? Read on...**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: **

Blood. The room is an ocean of blood.

Wyndam pauses beside Snow and his eyes take in the scene. For a brief second he gapes as he absorbs what has happened here.

The entire bed is soaked in blood and gore. It drips off the sheets and the bed linen and stains the rushes on the floor that are designed to keep the room sweetened.

"Wake him." Snow instructs and Wyndam turns his head and looks at him for a moment before his attention returns to the bed and to its occupants.

The girl lies on her back. She is naked, her limbs an untidy, used tumble. The early morning light paints her skin an interesting shade of bluish white considering she has been completely drained of any remaining blood. Slowly Wyndam approaches the bed. Hal lies beside her, on his stomach with his head facing away from them and his body is covered in blood, gore and flesh. It bespatters him and is everywhere. Wyndam turns his head and returns his attention to Hal's companion, to Mistress Mary.

Her eyes are bound with a scarf of richly embroidered material and he has to wonder at that but he hasn't enough time to wonder at what his protégé's predilections run to at this moment. He turns his head and looks at Snow again, to see him staring at the bed with pale narrow eyed rage. Wyndam slowly swallows and looks back to the girl.

Her clothing lies in an untidy pile on the floor by his feet. Her pale skin has been marked and abused by bites and other such injuries. Her throat is ripped open. She has been devoured and as he looks closer, he can see the pale ivory sheen of bone. From the angle of her head he guesses that her neck has been broken under the onslaught. He investigates further and realises that she has all but been beheaded. Wyndam turns his head back in Hal's direction. It is as the manservant claimed, as though he were properly dead. He hasn't moved, hasn't stirred at the intrusion. He looks to where the servants stand in the doorway with other witnesses. He nods.

"Rouse him." he instructs and watches how they pick their way across the room and to the opposite side of the bed. For all that they are vampires and they kill without another thought, what has occurred here has shocked even them.

"Do it and do not be gentle." he tells them in a harder voice and he takes a step back.

* * *

From the deep shadows of sleep Hal senses movement and it takes him a moment or two to surface sufficiently and when he does, slumber clings to his senses like thick cobwebs. His eyes are barely open when he feels himself being pulled upright and he gasps when he feels a hand grab his hair and pull his head back. His eyes spring open and immediately the room begins to spin and twirl. It makes his stomach twist in accompaniment. His limbs feel heavy and that adds to his sense of disorientation.

"Hal!" He struggles to focus on the voice that he can hear and he blinks slowly. He rears back when he feels a stinging slap across his face and he pulls forward and immediately struggles against the restraint that he feels. He looks over both shoulders and sees that he is being held fast. He frowns.

"What… what is… happening?" his words feel thick on his tongue.

"What have you done Hal?" that same voice demands and he turns towards it.

His vision begins to clear and he shakes his head slightly.

"Done? I have done… nothing sir. I was sleeping when I was… rudely dragged from my bed…"

"Then how do you explain this?" the voice retorts and Hal frowns.

"Explain what…" a hand grabs his chin and holds him steady and Hal is forced to look into ice cold blue eyes.

"The occupant of your bed Hal. I thought you said that she was your friend?" Hal stares at him, at Edgar Wyndam in slow confusion.

"My…" Wyndam turns his head towards the bed and Hal sees the devastation. His eyes widen and then widen further when he sees Snow standing opposite. His gaze drops down to the body.

"Oh…God." he whispers as he recognises the golden hair made red with blood. It is tossed mockingly over the pillow.

"Do you deny that you did this? After my _specific_ instructions?" Snow demands. Hal stares at him and he begins to tremble.

"In truth sir…I do not remember." he whispers fearfully.

"You do not _remember_. Such a fitting excuse given your history don't you think?" Snow snaps.

"Take him down to the cellars. I have to think about what to do with him. Once that has been accomplished, you and I must converse Mr Wyndam. Don't keep me waiting." he casts another cold look at the bed and turns. The men watch him leave.

Wyndam releases his hold on Hal's chin and his head drops down. He then notices the blood that covers him; how it coats almost every single part of him. Shock sends him rigid.

"You heard Mr Snow…" Wyndam reminds Hal's guards as he turns away.

"But…" Hal exclaims and Wyndam swiftly turns to look back at him.

"Do you deny all knowledge of how Mistress Mary met her demise?" he demands. He watches Hal's expression change, how the fear filters through, how his eyes slide away but he doesn't look to her lying in his bed. Wyndam sighs and shakes his head.

"The cellars." he reminds them and Hal is dragged away.

* * *

There is something…_rotten_ about all of this. That is the thought that uppermost occupies Wyndam's thoughts as he watches Hal being taken away. There is something so wrong about it. During their conversation of the previous day he thought that he was beginning to get the measure of the young man. Once the initial hostility had begun to ease and their agreement reached upon, he had begun to feel that almost forgotten sensation of…anticipation. And now Hal does _this_? It doesn't make sense, how could he have been so completely wrong about someone?

He is almost never wrong.

As he leaves the room, he sees the small gathering accumulated by the door. He catches the door handle on his way out and pulls it shut therefore blocking them of their view.

"There is nothing of interest here for you." he tells them in a level tone, his gaze touching on each and every one. It doesn't escape his notice that both James and Louis are part of this curious group. His gaze holds for a moment longer on James's face before he turns and heads down the corridor and towards Snow's rooms.

* * *

He pauses outside of the door to his chamber and he waits for a moment and thinks of what to say, to appease him. He raises a hand and taps and after a moment he hears Snow invite him inside.

Snow is alone but he is pacing in front of his desk. He pauses when he sees him but Wyndam sees the tension in him.

"Is he incarcerated?" he demands in a tight voice and Wyndam inclines his head.

"Good. He has overstepped his boundaries Edgar, far over-reached himself. Why would he do such a foolish, idiotic thing?" Wyndam watches as he begins to pace again, over and over.

"With respect sir, he is a vampire, one of alleged reputation and a reputation he seems to have lived up to." Wyndam answers and Snow pauses and looks at him.

"You jest with me sir?" he demands sharply and Wyndam regards him and shakes his head.

"You know me better than that Mr Snow. No I do not. I never jest. I'm just stating the facts. You told me yourself about him, about his future prospects and now he has shown us both a hint of those prospects and still you are here, furiously angry at him." Snow glares at him.

"And why do you seek to protect him after your initial reluctance to take him under your wing?" he demands.

"Because all of this…troubles me." Wyndam confesses.

"Troubles you? Let me remind you of something. When we first occupied this estate I made it clear to everyone that it was with the understanding that we respect our neighbouring town. That we _not_ draw attention to what we are and what we do until we are ready to and it has been successful. No one has suspected a thing. We managed to co-exist. Until now. Her father will quickly realise his daughter is missing. He will also realise that she is here and when he _realises_ that she is dead and who killed her well quite simply, there will be a war." Snow's normally calm control wears perilously thin for a brief moment before he reasserts himself. He pauses.

"And with a war there will be casualties and it's a pity because I rather like living here." He fixes his gaze upon Wyndam's face and his expression darkens once more.

"He was told not to harm her and certainly not to rip her to pieces as he has done so. I can only forgive so much of him. His carelessness will expose us to hysteria and we simply cannot risk the exposure or the knowing just yet, we'll all be burned at the stake or worse."

"Then let me take him away from here today and I will train him to resist those overpowering urges. He lacks finesse and last night was a mistake."

"As was his killing of Francesca and apparently another body attributed to him was disposed of earlier last evening." Wyndam frowns briefly.

"Are you having doubts about him now? Are you admitting that you were wrong about him, that perhaps you've met a vampire that you _can't_ control?" Wyndam enquires slowly and carefully. Snow stares at him.

"Once in a while someone…like Hal will attract my attention. I remember the last time I came across such a vampire." His look is pointed and Wyndam knows that he is talking about him. He watches as he frowns.

"I should make an example of him. Some rules are not meant to be broken, under _any_ circumstances."

"And under any other circumstances I would agree with you but this time I beg a favour of you." Wyndam interrupts. Snow goes very still as he waits.

"And what would this favour be?" he enquires in a chilly voice.

"It's entirely your prerogative what you wish to happen to Hal but I would ask that you delay your final decision a matter of days." Wyndam's brain is ticking over as he asks this.

"And why would I wish to do that? Why would I want to grant you your request?"

"You trust my judgement do you not?" Wyndam waits and watches him. He sees that he has piqued Snow's interest with his air of mystery.

"You know that I do Edgar, as much as I trust anyone. Go on…"

"There is something inherently…suspicious about all of this that I can't quite put my finger on. I need to look into this, ask questions and investigate. Quietly of course."

"Why?"

"Just call it instinct. It hasn't failed me yet." Wyndam waits as Snow seems to mull it over. Eventually he nods.

"You have three days Edgar. If your investigations come to naught then I shall decide what Hal's fate is to be. In the meantime he must stay in the cellar, under lock and key. No food, no blood, I sense a dose of starvation and humility will quickly bring him to heel." Wyndam regards him.

"Very well, three days. Thank you."

* * *

Wyndam's stride is long and rapid as he heads back towards his chambers. His mind is filled with questions. He lifts his head and sees Maria approaching him and he sees the concern in her eyes. He slows his pace somewhat as she falls into step beside him.

"What is this that I'm hearing about Hal?" she keeps her voice low but her tone is concerned.

"It depends upon what it is that you have heard." he answers. He pauses by his door and looks at her.

"He was discovered in his bed this morning with the corpse of Mistress Mary…that she was all but _beheaded_?" Wyndam stares hard at her before he reaches behind and opens the door. He slides inside and beckons her to follow. He closes the door behind her and draws her into the centre of the room.

"He was. Snow is apoplectic that he has put us all at risk of exposure and wants him suitably punished."

"His tune has quickly changed. Only yesterday he couldn't sing his praises high enough." Maria mutters.

"He is fickle; his moods can change upon a whim. I've managed to persuade him to delay his final decision a little while."

"What do you intend to do? You know that once Snow has made up his mind then nothing can change it." Her words halt as he holds both of her arms by the elbow.

"You know Hal better than I do. Would he do such a thing? Would he massacre someone whom he considered a friend and leave her corpse beside him to be discovered so publicly?" he keeps his voice low. Maria's eyes widen as she realises what it is that he is implying.

"You think…"

"Answer my question." he instructs and she blinks at his change of tone.

"No…he's young and yes he is arrogant but he would never have harmed Mary. I couldn't believe my ears when James informed me what had happened."

"James told you?"

"It's everywhere Edgar, it's all people are talking about." she answers curiously as Wyndam releases his hold on her and turns away.

"You think that someone else did this and is blaming Hal?" Edgar swings around.

"He killed her Maria; there is no doubt about that. If you saw the condition of his room as I did then you'd agree. It's the manner of it that sits uneasily with me. I think I need to talk to some people and get to the bottom of this."

"What is your suspicion?" Maria's voice lowers.

"I believe someone has set the entire scene to enable Hal's fall. When I approached his bed this morning he was all but unconscious, he was insensible. He took a while to rouse, to make any kind of sense and I saw the expression on his face when he saw her corpse. He truly didn't know what he had done."

"But he has times in the night when he screams and runs and has no memory of that, we all saw him the other evening Edgar, we witnessed it for ourselves. Perhaps this is what happened here?"

"Yes, then he screamed and he cried out but he did not this time."

"You think that he was drugged?" Wyndam just nods and Maria's eyes widen.

"By who?"

"There is but one who would do such a thing to him. Someone who resents his sudden promotion and success, someone who approached me on the night of my arrival and asked that I take him instead." his voice is low. Maria shakes her head in puzzlement.

"He told you himself about Hal's demise, I can imagine that he couldn't help himself, glorying in his public humiliation." he continues and watches as her eyes widen.

"James?" she whispers and Wyndam just nods.

"I just need to prove it." Maria looks at him.

"And you have your ways of making that happen." she murmurs.

* * *

The door slams shut with a final heavy hollow clang. Hal slowly lifts his head as he hears the scratch of a key being turned in a lock and the scrape of a bar being pushed across the door itself. It sounds so final, so absolute.

The room is so dark and the ground beneath his body is cold soft dirt. He looks around but can see nothing, he doesn't even know if he is alone or not.

His head still feels thick and over stuffed and his stomach roils and churns with every breath. He slowly lies back down and he can smell the dampness of the earth beneath his cheek. He slowly rolls onto his back and stares upward. He can hear the drip of water and the air feels icy cold against his bare skin. All that he wears is a pair of breeches, hastily grabbed and thrown at him as he was tossed into the cellar. He barely had enough strength to pull them on.

He's so confused. He doesn't remember any of it. The last day has faded into shadows and light. He remembers his audience with Wyndam and encountering James after that but further on and it all becomes muddled up and foggy.

Slowly he sits up and feels his head swim and his stomach churn in tandem. He rubs his face and shivers. He laboriously turns and rises up onto his knees.

He has been condemned to the cellars, Snow is furiously angry with him and those who are banished here very rarely get a reprieve. He's broken the golden rule, never to expose the outside world to the existence of vampires. Once Mary's father realises that she is missing then he will come here and he will realise what has happened. The people here are superstitious as well as suspicious. He's witnessed that hysteria for himself, the burning at the stake of supposed witches and heretics. Their sins being that their belief systems are different to what is seen as convention, as acceptable. What would the outside world truly think about the existence of vampires?

His head hurts and he frowns against it. He slowly, arduously gets to his feet and his head spins and it makes him sway drunkenly.

He suddenly bends over as he vomits and it feels as though it will never stop. He hears it splatter on the soft ground, smells its acrid bitterness. It leaves him weak and he drops to his knees again. His arms curl around his middle as he collapses onto his side and pants hollowly, staring unseeing at the black damp walls in front of him.

Tears leak ignored from the corners of his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you to those of you still reading and leaving reviews. :) In this chapter, Inspector Wyndam is on the case...read on...**

* * *

**Chapter Eight.**

There isn't a soul to be seen as Wyndam pauses at Hal's chamber door. He reaches for the handle and then pauses. Slowly and deliberately he looks to his left and to his right. At the same time he listens. His senses prickle. The entire household has heard about the events of this morning and as a result the mood is somewhat hushed and subdued.

Snow has locked himself away and will see nobody, not even him. Part of him is relieved at that, he wants to conduct his investigation in peace and without interruption or interference.

He turns the door handle and pushes the heavy door open and he slides inside.

The room is empty. Daylight floods eagerly through the windows. Wyndam closes the door behind him and his eyes take in the scene in front of him.

The bed has been stripped of all linen, the rushes swept and replaced. All the evidence seemingly has been cleaned away and apart from the lack of replacement bed linen, it doesn't look like anything at all happened here, never mind the scene that had greeted him this morning. He walks to the centre of the large room and turns in a slow tight circle, his eyes taking everything in. There seems to be nothing out of place. He sees the travelling chest at the bottom of the bed. It hasn't been loaded onto the wagon just yet and Wyndam wonders whether it ever will be. He goes to it and opens it.

Hal's clothes and possessions are folded neatly inside of it. Quickly and with a practised hand, he rifles through it all. There is nothing here. As he straightens up, his eyes scan the room again. It's a waste of time as anything incriminating will have been cleared away while the bed was being stripped and the rushes cleared away and replaced. He sighs.

He stares at the chest once more with a frown on his face. There had not been much inside of it. There had been clothes of course and shoes and boots but nothing of a personal nature, no books or jewellery, no souvenirs to remind him of his former life before recruitment. Under the usual circumstances this is actually a good thing. He has no attachments, no human ties and nothing to hold him back but to Wyndam's eyes, this time it is almost…sad.

He hopes that his informants in London will be successful in unearthing something about this boy's life before he ended up capturing Alexei's attention.

* * *

He walks into the Great Hall. Few people are milling around and those who are, quickly depart upon catching his eye. He has been told to deal with this meeting by Snow and it irritates him, he has enough to do without having to deal with this as well. Snow informed him that it is necessary; that he has the correct skills to conduct this meeting otherwise blood would be shed in the most public of manners. So to avoid that temper tantrum happening, here he is.

A small group of men stand beside the head table and as he approaches them, he sees how their eyes take in their surroundings. He watches how they all turn to regard him. He sees the suspicion in their eyes. Snow claims that they have a cordial relationship with the nearby townsfolk. He doesn't see evidence of that here.

"Sirs…I'm afraid Mr Snow is currently indisposed. How may I help you?" Wyndam keeps his voice level and his tone carefully deferential as he takes them in. There are four of them and judging by their attire and carriage, they see themselves as men of importance.

"We should like very much to see Mr Snow." one of them demands and Wyndam swallows down his irritation. He has an idea of what these men want and he knows that he must be very, very careful. He turns to him and regards him for a moment, his stare unblinking and designed to be off putting. It works, the other man looks away, his cheeks flushed a faintly embarrassed pink.

"He sends his apologies. I'm Edgar Wyndam; I'm his proxy so to speak." He introduces and he waits and wonders who will speak first.

"Is Hal here?" the same man demands and Wyndam once more looks at him. A beat passes.

"Hal?"

"Yes…Hal Yorke. I know he lives here, my daughter told me so and he has been a visitor to my establishment on more than one occasion." Wyndam takes a closer look at him. This must be Mary's father and yes, he can see a resemblance in colouring.

"I know who Hal is and unfortunately he too is unable to join us. Is there a problem gentlemen?"

"I must speak with him, it is of utmost importance!" the man blurts out and Wyndam barely refrains from sighing out loud.

"Mr Yorke is unwell…a sweating sickness I'm afraid. It attacks suddenly and without warning and he is gravely ill and has been for the last day." He sees the look of horror that flashes across his face and tries not to notice the half step back that he takes. It's almost amusing. Men and their fear of diseases.

"I must speak to him about my daughter…Mary. They were friends. Mary is missing sir. She cannot be found and her companion swears that yesterday she received a note from young Hal asking her to meet him. Edith is of the opinion that Mary stole away to meet him without my knowledge and it will be known, without my consent also."

"A letter you say? Is there a copy of this missive for verification?" Wyndam asks. He looks to each man in turn.

"We only have Edith's word." Mary's father mumbles.

"Ah, her _word_. Well sir, I can assure you that Edith is mistaken and that Mary is not here. Hal has not left his chamber in the last twenty four hours because of his illness. I would be willing to take you there to see for yourself but unfortunately, as you know, the sweating sickness is rather…infectious. You have enough to worry about without adding that to it." He waits. A moment or two tick past as the four men exchange looks.

"Mary is a good girl Mr Wyndam and she was especially sweet on Hal. This is very unlike her." her father responds irritably.

"I do not doubt you sir but be assured she is not here and never has been." Wyndam responds calmly. He watches as Mary's father straightens and stares at Wyndam.

"You wouldn't lie to me to protect your protégé would you? Mary told me that you are planning to take him back to England." Wyndam stares at him and the only outward sign of his growing anger is the slow curling of his fingers into tight fists.

"You call me a liar sir? Yes, I am Hal's patron but under no circumstances would I lie to protect him for whatever reason you are implying. I suggest you leave now…" _while you still can…_ the threat is left unsaid but he sees the colour drain out of the other man's face. He looks at each man in turn, the ice in his eyes visible for all to see. Another look is exchanged between them and with a bow, they depart.

Wyndam is not in the best of moods as he leaves the Great Hall.

* * *

He enters his outer chamber and pauses when he sees Maria seated in his chair behind the desk. She lifts her eyes to look at him and watches as he approaches the desk. He pauses on the other side.

"What are you doing in here?" he enquires in a brittle voice. She leans back in the chair and regards him still.

"I hear that you had a visitor…"

"Visitors plural; Mary's father and three companions. They seem to be of the opinion that Mary is here and that Hal knows of her whereabouts." A ghost of a smile crosses Maria's face.

"Fancy that. What did you tell them?"

"What do you think that I told them? I denied all knowledge. I may have convinced them for now but experience tells me that maybe I didn't, not completely. Perhaps you should have spoken to them, used a little of that charm you have?" He watches as she rolls her eyes. She gets to her feet.

"More than likely I would have lost patience and eaten them. Diplomacy is more your strength Edgar, you're very good at it. Mine is having a good time." she skirts around the desk and as she turns she sees that Edgar has sat down in her just vacated seat. There's a mild frown on his face as he stares into space for a moment.

"What are you thinking?" His eyes flick up to her face and he sighs loudly.

"According to Mary's father, her companion swears that she received a note from Hal asking her to meet him. She left without either her escort or her father's permission to do so."

"Would you tell your father about a secret assignation Edgar? I know I wouldn't, not if I was meeting someone like Hal." she smiles innocently at his look of reproach.

"He said his farewells to her earlier in the day. He was morose but accepting of it." Maria tacks on.

"You saw him? You spoke to him?"

"Just before he came to see you. He knew that she had feelings for him, feelings that he did not reciprocate. He was not comfortable with that thought. I think he genuinely saw her as a friend."

"Did you know Mary?"

"Just from the bits and pieces that Hal shared about her. He liked her friendship; he would not have harmed her. Not intentionally."

"But unintentionally…I need to speak to the guests at his celebration. This all just feels…wrong somehow. The more that I think of it, the more I'm convinced that Hal has been tricked in some manner." Wyndam frowns.

"How will you get them to talk?" Maria enquires curiously and Wyndam smiles faintly.

"I have my ways, you know that my sweet." he chides in a soft voice. Maria chuckles as Wyndam's smile grows wider.

"Oh I haven't forgotten." she replies, her eyes sparkling.

* * *

It's late when she emerges from cell. She sighs, replete and wipes delicately at the corners of her mouth. She smiles at the guard by the door.

"I don't think that one is for much longer in this world Thomas…" she smiles.

"I will have someone take care of it for you Mistress Maria." he answers and Maria casts a glance at the almost corpse in the small room behind her. She hasn't seen Edgar since their earlier conversation and boredom has set in.

She knows that Hal will be in one of these cells but considering each door is securely bolted and locked with no way of seeing inside, she has no way of guessing which one. She hopes that he is coping. If she knows Edgar as she does, then he will have him free before long.

The sound of the scream stops Maria in her tracks. She feels the hair on the back of her neck prickle as she listens. It echoes along the narrow corridor and it sounds terrified, tormented. She knows instantly that it is Hal. She looks to Thomas.

"Where is he?" she hisses. Thomas's eyes go wide.

"He's under strict instructions not to be disturbed…" Another scream, louder than the previous one rents the air and the two vampires exchange a look. A loud thud follows it and Maria lifts up her skirts and she runs towards the sound, she pauses and sees how one of the doors shudders on the impact.

"Please…_please_…let me out…I promise to behave…." the voice wails, Hal's voice. Maria looks to Thomas.

"I demand that you unlock this door…" she points at it.

"But…"

"Thomas…I will take full responsibility. _Please_." she begs. Thomas sighs and takes a large key ring from his belt. Maria waits with faintly concealed impatience as he unlocks the door and pulls the bar back. Maria lifts a lit torch from a wall sconce and waits by the entrance. She looks at him.

"I will let you know when I'm ready to come out."

"Mr Snow will not be happy about this." Thomas warns.

"Mr Snow need not know about it, I'm not planning to tell him. Are you?" she holds his gaze for a second and then slides through the gap of the open door.

Maria turns and she sees him slumped against the wall beside the door. His head is down on his knees and his arms are wrapped around his head. She crosses the room and slips the torch into the wall bracket before she carefully approaches him. She crouches down in front of him.

"Hal…" she whispers. His head comes up and he inhales noisily. She stares at him. In the dim light his face is white-pale, smudged and dirty. There's a wildness to his eyes that she hasn't seen before and at the same time a kind of detachment that she does recognise.

"Hal, it's Maria…hush now…" For a moment there is absolute silence. It's as if he's trying to decide whether to respond to her or not.

"It's so dark…I'm scared." he whispers and he sounds like such a small boy that Maria's cold heart clenches. She creeps towards him and her hand comes out and touches his arm. His skin is freezing cold beneath her fingers.

"Oh Hal…" she whispers. She feels how he tenses up and she braces herself. She remembers how he knocked Wyndam over the moment he touched him. This time he doesn't move. She slides closer to him until she is seated beside him on the cold soft dirt. She feels the ice cold chill of the room against her skin and sees how he trembles. Once more he has lowered his head to rest on his folded knees. He shakes violently. She takes a breath and she slides an arm across his shoulders. She expects him to fling her off, to bolt across the room but surprisingly enough he doesn't. He remains stiff for a moment or two. She slips her other arm across his chest and gently she draws him closer to her. He goes without much resistance and presently his head rests in her lap. She looks down at him.

"Don't be afraid Hal, I'm here." she murmurs as she strokes his hair slowly and carefully. Eventually the trembling decreases and his eyes slip closed and a more natural kind of slumber claims him.

* * *

She wakes suddenly. It takes her a moment to realise where she is. She feels the heavy weight across her thighs and it's then that she remembers. She's still in the cellar and she's with Hal. She looks down at him. She watches how his eyes flutter open and then blink and then he's upright and staring at her with wide eyes.

"I'm…what are you doing here?" he whispers.

"I heard you. You were shouting…I came to talk to you…to calm you if I could." Hal looks down at his grubby skin and clothing. He returns his attention to her.

"You must leave. If Mr Snow discovers that you've been here, you will be punished."

"No I won't be. He likes me." she half teases but he doesn't smile back.

"I thought the same of him too but I quickly realised how naïve I was to believe that. He likes me well enough until I disappoint him and it would seem that recently I have done plenty of disappointing ."

"It is but a momentary setback. What do you remember?"

"About what?" Maria pauses a beat.

"About everything, anything." He looks at her. His face is ghost-pale with black sooty smudges marking the delicate skin beneath both eyes. She can see the faint sheen of sweat covering his skin. He is unwell and he needs to feed.

"It fades in and out of focus for me. I remember parts of the celebration but I don't remember all of it. I remember wine, lots of wine and being very drunk. I remember Rose…"

"Rose?" Hal shakes his head very slightly.

"A camp follower. And I remember being angry…and overheated." He frowns at that particular memory.

"How can I have been overheated Maria? We're normally such cold creatures so how could I have felt like that?" he looks at her, to see her pensive expression, the delicate frown between her eyebrows.

"What do you know?" he demands and she looks at him.

"Nothing I swear but Wyndam is investigating."

"Why? I killed Mary when Snow said I should not but when I was woken up, she lay dead in my bed".

_Barely breathing but her skin is so warm, so sweet smelling. She is irresistible. His hands are eager in their explorations, his mouth eager to touch hers, to taste. She seems eager too, he feels how she clings to him and her fingernails scratch the skin of his back. She invites and he takes. The satisfaction he feels is above everything else he has felt before. _

_He can't see her eyes. _

Hal looks at Maria in confusion.

"Why couldn't I see her eyes?" he whispers.

Maria frowns and then she remembers what Wyndam has told her, what he suspects. That someone created all of this to engineer Hal's public fall from grace. He has been drugged, possibly poisoned so as he begins to remember, it will not make sense to him to begin with. She sighs.

"I don't know Hal." she whispers back.

* * *

Wyndam is on a mission. He needs names and all of a sudden people are being especially evasive. It's as if they know that he suspects something and are keeping out of his way. It doesn't deter him, in fact it makes him all the more determined to get to the root of all of this.

He lifts his head from his book when he hears the gentle tap on his door. The door creaks open and he smiles faintly at Maria who pops her head around it.

"May we talk?" she enquires in a low voice. Wyndam nods and beckons her in, closing the book and placing it on his desk already cluttered with more paperwork. He waits as she enters and closes the door. He frowns as he takes in her attire.

"Wait a moment…that gown…" she looks down at it in confusion for a moment.

"What about it?" she enquires irritably. He looks at her.

"That is the gown that you wore yesterday. Are times that difficult my dear that you now must wear the same gown for more than one day?" she rolls her eyes at the mock sweetness as she sits down.

"You are very amusing Edgar. If you must know, I spent the night with Hal…" her eyes widen when she sees how his expression begins to darken.

"Oh not like that…I was hungry and I went down to the cellars. I heard him, I heard him screaming and wailing. He needed some comfort. All he did was sleep." she clarifies. She sighs loudly.

"It was just as well that I stayed there because he is slowly beginning to remember what happened yesterday. Specifically that he felt hot." she watches him and sees the interest spark in those blue eyes of his.

"Felt hot you say?" he pulls the book he'd been reading back in front of him and he opens it. Maria gets to her feet and goes around the desk to stand beside him. She looks at it over his shoulder. The pages are filled with drawings of plants and their properties are listed beneath them.

"Something bothered me when he was hauled out of his bed yesterday. Apart from being almost insensible, the pupils of his eyes were enormous and his cheeks were…pink. He looked almost human, it was most unusual." Wyndam comments as he rifles through the pages.

"He was poisoned Edgar, I'm almost certain of it. He also said he was very drunk. The night faded in and out for him. He doesn't drink to excess; he's always in control, _always_. It's a point of honour for him and part of what makes him special. You know for yourself, once that blood lust kicks in then control is quickly gone. That never happens with Hal, it's as though there is a door inside of his mind, it's chilling."

"You've seen this?"

"You saw him at dinner the night you were introduced? Hal doesn't lose control; he doesn't allow himself that luxury." Wyndam sits back in his seat.

"Tell me more. What do you think he was poisoned with, you obviously have an idea." He watches as she leans forwards and turns a couple more of the pages of the book.

"There…" she points at the illustration at the top of the page and Wyndam frowns as he leans forward and reads the words.

"Belladonna?"

"It's called one of the baneful herbs. It's highly toxic when ingested. It would kill a human in a short matter of time. To a vampire it will make them unwell certainly but it will make them lose control. The pupils of the eyes dilate, the skin becomes overheated and the person sweats. They become agitated, talkative and restless. I'm sure if you ask one or more guests at that party then they will tell you that Hal was all of those." Wyndam continues to regard her.

"And how would someone get hold of this belladonna?" he asks. She smiles at him and her eyes twinkle with interest.

"There's a woman in the town, a wise woman… She creates potions, spells…"

"She's a witch?" he hisses and Maria shakes her head.

"No no, she wishes that she was but she's not. She holds the town in awe with her supposed _powers_ and _abilities_ but in truth she's just…gifted at what she does. She's harmless." she smiles to herself.

"I can be almost sure that whoever it was who purchased this poison, purchased it from her…"

"Then we must ask her ourselves." Maria looks at Wyndam and she grins.

"Let me do that for you." she volunteers. Wyndam slowly nods. He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by a knock on the door. They exchange a look.

"I shall be in there…" she points towards Wyndam's inner chamber and before he can speak, she disappears through the door, closing it almost silently behind her. Wyndam closes the book and lowers it to the floor at his feet.

"Come in…" he calls and somehow isn't surprised when he sees James make his entrance.

"Ah Mr Winterbourne…" he greets mildly.

"Mr Wyndam sir..." James answers and Wyndam rises to his feet as he approaches the desk. He has something in his hand.

"How can I help you sir?" Wyndam enquires. He watches how James seems to pause and he takes a deep breath.

"I was a witness to the happenings of yesterday morning sir and saw the terrible misdeed that Hal committed." he begins and he looks down at what he holds in his hand. He takes another, even deeper breath.

"Louis and I were part of the team assigned to clean up his room afterwards and disposing of all of the…evidence. I came across…this in the bed linen and I thought that perhaps you should see it." He holds it out and Wyndam sees that it is a note. It has been neatly folded but his senses prickle at the scent of the blood that stains the paper. He takes it and he sees Mary's name in neat script. He looks up at James.

"Thank you for this. You think this is from Hal?"

"It is addressed to Mary and I would recognise his handwriting anywhere." James answers and Wyndam looks down at the note again.

"Ah well there it is then. I suppose this is indeed proof of his misdeeds. I shall read it shortly. Thank you again Mr Winterbourne." He remains standing as James sends him a puzzled look and then turns and leaves. As the door clicks shut, another one opens and Maria reappears. She walks towards him.

"What is that?" she asks curiously, watching as he drops the note onto his desk. Wyndam looks at her.

"My proof." he answers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Many thanks for the lovely reviews. This chapter was supposed to be the conclusion of the Hal/Mary/poison storyline but it got to be so long that i've had to split it. The next chapter is already complete and will go up in a few days. In this chapter, the ball begins to roll so to speak. All errors are my own and unintentional. Love to hear your thoughts as always :) **

* * *

**Chapter Nine:**

He has lost all track of time. He hears voices but he isn't sure whether they're inside of his head or outside of his prison door. He continues to shake and tremble as the cold seeps into his bones and his need for blood increases. It feels as though he is in the depths of Hell itself.

Faces taunt him, nightmarish images filled with evil. Pain strips away at any strength that he has left.

He is utterly alone and no one else has been here since Maria left him. He misses her company and he finds that, in his darkest depths, strange. He's never really needed anyone before, no one has needed him. Except for perhaps Mary and now she's dead. He murdered her. .

He doesn't remember it, not clearly. The slices of memory that he does have make it feel as though someone else had committed the crime, that he was just a bystander. Would he have killed her if he had more knowledge? He closes his eyes as the chaotic visions flash in a jumbled mess inside of his head.

She didn't make a sound. Would he have recognised her if she had? He still doesn't understand why her eyes were covered.

He has been forgotten about. Is this his punishment? Maybe in the future his bones will be found, yellowed and gnawed at by rats.

He hears footsteps.

* * *

Maria brings the woman into his outer chamber and for a brief moment he is surprised. She is nothing like how he pictured her to be. For one, she is young and her hair is the colour of flame. He exchanges a long look at Maria and he waits.

He watches as she directs her to a seat opposite his desk and sees how her eyes dart around the room, taking in the furnishings, taking in him. She's wondering about him, who he is and what he could possibly want with her. He stands beside the window with his arms folded and waits until they are alone. He watches her for a moment longer before he makes his move. Her dark brown eyes fix upon his face as he unfolds his arms and comes closer to her. Her gaze is steady and surprisingly confident.

Wyndam pauses in front of her. She shows him absolutely no fear and he does not know whether to be amused or perturbed by it.

"Alice." he greets as if they are acquaintances. She stares steadily at him but he sees an initial flare of alarm in her eyes.

"How do you know who I am?" she enquires. He looks at her, a trace of amusement on his face.

"You're the town's _witch_ I believe…or is the term wise woman? I forget these days but I believe they more or less mean the same thing." Alice expression slowly changes to one of curiosity. Wyndam waits as understanding quickly follows.

"I know what you are." she informs him loftily. This makes Wyndam smile. It's a brief flash and it usually catches the uninitiated off guard because despite his demeanour, it has charm.

"What _I_ am? I'm almost certain my dear that you don't. Not really." he pulls up a second chair close to her and lowers himself onto it and he leans forward and stares at her. For a moment neither speaks as his eyes scan her face.

"You interest me Alice. According to my…associate, you have quite the reputation in town. Some of your neighbours believe you to have…abilities… and they fear you accordingly." Amusement dances in his eyes."But you don't. You're no more a witch than I am a werewolf…" he waits and sees how her eyes widen. He smiles again.

"How do I know about such creatures? Well I _could_ tell you and I can see that you're a woman of intelligence but in truth you would fall onto your knees and scream for mercy if I told you what truly existed in the shadows of humanity. If I _really_ wanted to then I could introduce you to the very worst of it." his voice is velvet soft. He sees her expression of shock and enjoys it.

"You tell a good tale sir." the woman stutters and Wyndam has to admire her a little for her tenacity, her bravery. He chuckles quietly.

"A tale is it? I wish that it was but that is not important at this moment. What _is_ important is some information which I require from you, that you are going to give to me." He pauses and stares at her.

"A purchase was made from you. A potion, some might call it a poison. It contained belladonna." he watches her carefully and sees her eyes change slightly, become shifty.

"And what of it? I sell a lot of potions to a lot of people, my services are popular."

"That may be true but I need the name of someone who purchased a belladonna potion from you most recently. It is of great importance to me." he doesn't raise his voice.

"And if I give you this name, what will it be worth?" she asks. Wyndam sighs.

"Your life Mistress, it would be worth your life. If you lie to me then it is forfeit. If you tell me the truth and it is proved to be the truth then you shall leave unharmed."

"You mean to harm me if I chose to keep my secrets? As you've already stated, my townsfolk believe that I have abilities…"

"And I have already reminded _you_ that _that_ is a lie. Which is it to be? Or how about this idea, I kill you anyway? You are of no importance to me in the grand scheme of things, just a smudge ready to be wiped away. If you fail to supply me with the information that I require then you'll be taken to a room in the cellar of this property and you will be summarily wiped away, forgotten." he straightens in his seat as her eyes widen.

"You pretend to hold power; you have your townsfolk in your thrall. I _do_ hold power and you have no _idea_ what I could do to you and to them if I put my mind to it. So what is your choice?" He watches the colour drain out of her face. She swallows and looks down at her smooth unlined elegant hands for a moment. When she lifts her head again, her expression is different, the bravery has disappeared.

"He said his name was Hal Yorke." she whispers.

* * *

Wyndam frowns at her.

"That is not the answer that I wished to hear." She flinches back as he quickly gets to his feet and her eyes widen as he holds out a hand. She stares at it and then up at him warily.

"You must accompany me mistress. Do not worry, you will be safe." he assures her and watches as she slowly rises to her feet. She places her hand in his.

Hal lifts his head from his knees when he hears the shuffle of footsteps pause outside of his door. He pushes himself backwards as the door is unlocked and the bar is drawn back and he only stops when his back connects with the bare rough wall. He ignores the scrape of pain it causes and he waits. Is this the moment where his fate is decided? He's frozen to the floor and his eyes widen as the door opens and he sees Wyndam enter, a torch in his hand. Beside him is a young woman with red hair.

"The man who purchased the belladonna potion…is this him?" Wyndam asks her. They move closer to him, standing over him and he stares at them both. The girl peers at him and she frowns.

"No. This is not him. He's not tall enough to begin with and his hair…it was darker, much darker." Wyndam looks down at Hal and then back to his guest.

"Thank you." he turns to the two guards who stand in the doorway.

"I want you to escort the lady back upstairs and out of the property. Make sure that she leaves safely." He looks back at her and smiles very slightly.

"Thank you mistress, safe journey." he murmurs and watches as she leaves. He catches the eye of one of the guards and he subtly nods. He then turns to look back at Hal. He then leans down, grasps his arm and hauls him to his feet. He holds onto his arm as the younger vampire sways unsteadily for a moment.

"Come with me." he instructs and lets go of him. Hal frowns.

"Where are we going?" he asks as Wyndam begins to walk away. He pauses and looks at him.

"Don't ask questions, just do as you are bid." he turns and Hal has no option but to follow.

They head along the narrow corridor, past other heavily fortified wooden doors to a narrow stone staircase. Without pausing to see if he was close by, Wyndam climbs up them and Hal follows obediently. He still has no real idea what is going on but he is happy to be free of his prison and he hopes that will be able to feed soon. He's feeling quite hollow headed.

They are climbing upwards and the only light is the low orange glow of Wyndam's torch. He doesn't speak and Hal knows better than to ask any further questions. Wyndam opens a door and cautiously emerges. He looks back to Hal.

"This way and be quick." he hisses. Hal does as he is told.

They're near to Wyndam's chambers he realises. He keeps behind him as they hurry along a deserted corridor and into his outer chamber. Wyndam skirts around him and closes the door behind Hal and regards him.

He's lost the pink cheeks and the confused aura of a couple of days ago but he recognises the hunger. The boy hasn't fed since all of this began, a deliberate punishment meted out by Snow. No one has dared to disobey it.

"You need to clean up and food will be provided. Maria will take care of you." And as if on cue, another door to the side opens and Maria emerges. Hal watches how she smiles at him and approaches him.

"What is going on?" he enquires in bewilderment. He sees how they exchange looks. Wyndam sighs.

"You told Maria that the evening of your celebration, that you could only remember parts of it. That you were very drunk and that you felt hot and overheated." he begins.

"We believe that you were poisoned. It caused you to lose control and that's why you killed Mary in the manner that you did." he continues.

"I would not harm her, I didn't know she was there, I would not have invited her." Hal retorts and Wyndam holds up a hand and Hal's flow of words ceases.

"We know. Someone did this to you Hal."

"Who?" he asks and sees how they exchange another look.

"You will bathe and eat and dress and be ready to depart for the Great Hall in a while. All will be revealed then. Maria will keep you company, you seem to enjoy it." he glances at her once more and then leaves. Hal watches him depart before swinging around to look at Maria once again.

"Who?" he demands. Maria looks away.

"Your bath will be ready shortly, I'll send someone to get you some food and after that you need to rest awhile." she goes to move past him but he grabs her arm.

"I'm not a child!" he hisses at her and she sighs.

"Then please don't act like one." His grip tightens and her eyes darken

"Maria…you must tell me." he demands. She looks at him and she firmly pulls her arm free.

"Don't ask questions Hal, all will be revealed in good time." she promises him.

* * *

Wyndam walks into the Great Hall. It's reasonably busy and he pauses in the entrance and his eyes scan over the faces. He sees him seated at a long table. James is in deep conversation with Louis and with him sits two other vampires, faces that do not interest him. Wyndam waits and presently James lifts his head and sees him. Wyndam beckons him over and watches the tall red haired vampire rise to his feet and almost eagerly cross the room to him.

"Mr Wyndam?" He looks at him and his eyes narrow very slightly.

"You did a good deed in presenting me with Hal's letter. When presented with it, he admitted to it all. Mr Snow is deciding on his punishment as I speak. You and I however have matters to discuss." He sees the excitement that suddenly sparks in his eyes.

"We do?"

"Mr Winterbourne, do not take me for a fool. Of course we do. I travelled many miles across Europe only to be disappointed. I need a pupil and you will be handsomely rewarded. We can discuss details of this reward at a later time. Shall we say, here at sunset?" he suggests. James nods enthusiastically and then seems to pull himself together. He gives a bow.

"I'll be here, thank you Mr Wyndam; I promise you that you will not regret your decision." Wyndam gives him a long look. Then he glances at Louis who is watching them silently.

"I know that I won't. Bring your friend Louis too." he murmurs.

* * *

He returns to his chambers after a meeting with Snow and an arrangement that he attend the Great Hall at a later time. He is tired and he is hungry. This was only supposed to be a short trip, one where he was to collect his new charge and return home. How it has descended into this madness, he doesn't know. He is heartily sick of it all and he misses home all of a sudden.

He sees Maria in the outer chamber and she is alone. He looks around.

"Where is our charge?"

"Sleeping…and yes he is still there, I looked in on him not two minutes ago. He has bathed, he has eaten and he is sleeping. He has a lot of questions Edgar." He heads towards a chair beside the fire and he sits down.

"Of course he does and they will be answered in good time. He must learn patience." Maria approaches him and she hands him a glass. For a moment Wyndam looks at it before he looks back up at her.

"Has he fed?"

"Just a little, enough to take the edge off his hunger. He must be allowed to feed properly soon, he's ravenous." Wyndam takes a sip from his glass and allows his eyes to briefly blacken. He looks at her again, his vision clearing.

"And he will be, don't worry. I need him like this for now." his fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. He drains it of its contents.

* * *

Hal emerges into Wyndam's outer chamber. He is seated before the fire and Maria is seated opposite him. Both of them turn their heads in his direction and Maria is on her feet in an instant. He watches as she approaches him.

"You look much better." she comments and he blinks somewhat sleepily at her. Then he turns his attention to Wyndam.

"What is going on? Why all of this secrecy?" He looks at him and he gets to his feet.

"We're setting a trap and we need to leave now in order to prime it. Are you ready?" Hal stares back at him, puzzled.

"You were _poisoned_ Hal, aren't you in the slightest bit curious to know who is responsible for this? Who would glory in your downfall?" his smile is faint.

"Don't you want to be a part in their downfall too?" he all but whispers.

* * *

More secret passages. Hal is between Wyndam and Maria as they make their way along them. They're simply built and the smell of dust and mould tickle his nostrils. He keeps quiet and instead he wonders who it is that has engineered all of this. He does not like being at a disadvantage.

They emerge into the Great Hall from a narrow door hidden in the wood panelling. Wyndam pauses and he turns to look at Hal.

"Whatever you do, you must remain seated and you must remain quiet and you must listen. It's about control Hal and Maria tells me that you excel in maintaining control. Follow me." he glances at Maria as they cross the empty hall. The tables are empty but soon enough the room will be busy again. They go to the head table and Wyndam directs Hal to one of the chairs. He realises that it is Mr Snow's chair and his eyes widen.

"Sit. Don't worry, you have permission." Wyndam tells him and slowly Hal does as he is bid.


	10. Chapter 10

**A continuation of the previous chapter. Thank you to those of you still reading and reviewing. Always appreciated. In this chapter, Hal realises the depths of James's deception and he's not a happy boy. All errors are my own and unintentional. **

* * *

**Chapter Ten: **

There's a subtle shift in the atmosphere and Hal sees Mr Snow enter. With him are two other vampires, they are tall and powerfully built and Hal recognises them as bodyguards. He eyes them warily. He straightens in his chair as Snow approaches them, he slowly rises. He waits as Snow looks at him.

"Hal." he greets and there is a benign smile on his pale face. Hal swallows.

"Mr Snow." he murmurs back.

"Edgar has explained the situation to me, rather unfortunate it would seem. Please, sit down. I don't mind in the slightest." he turns and looks to Wyndam.

"Everything is arranged?" he enquires and Wyndam nods.

"Their arrival is imminent." he tells him and at that moment Maria strides towards them both.

"They're on their way." she tells them in a low voice and Hal wants to know who it is that they're talking about. Wyndam turns and looks at Hal.

"Remember what I said." he murmurs and Hal nods and watches as both of Snow's bodyguards stand in front of the table, in front of him, effectively blocking him from view. Snow and Wyndam stand a little further along. He lifts his head and watches as Maria comes to sit beside him. She sees the question in Hal's eyes and she lifts a finger to her lips. Hal frowns.

"Ah…Mr Winterbourne and Louis…I'm sorry we weren't formally introduced so I have no way of knowing how to address you." Wyndam's tone is solicitous and Hal's head snaps around when he hears their names being spoken.

Then he remembers what Wyndam has instructed him to do. Remain quiet, in his seat and to listen.

* * *

Wyndam watches as both James and Louis enter the Great Hall. The room is lit with torches and it sends a flickering glow around the interior of the large room. He sees how they glance at Snow's companions.

"I did not realise that we would have an audience sir." James begins. He sends another wary glance Snow's way.

"This change of circumstances requires my permission James. Did you think that Edgar's decision to replace Hal is a decision made by only him? No." He straightens slightly.

"When I decide to send a vampire to be…educated and polished, it has to be done correctly. I need to see for myself that the choice is a correct one. Hal would have been a perfect pupil for Edgar. Such a shame…" he sighs and Wyndam glances briefly at him.

"It was indeed a shame. He had such potential. I had such hopes for him, hopes that I shared with you if you care to remember?" Wyndam looks at him. He sees how James looks between them.

"How long has it been since you were recruited James? Where were you recruited, you will have to refresh my memory. I follow the progress of many vampires but quite a few slip through the net. Hal was such a vampire."

"I was recruited a century ago sir, just after Agincourt." he answers and Wyndam nods thoughtfully.

"And how long have you been a member of Mr Snow's household?"

"I'm not sure sir; I know that it has been quite a while."

"Hmmm…and Hal was recruited … barely ten years ago I think." he looks to Snow as if looking for confirmation and Snow nods. Wyndam sighs.

"It must have…annoyed you that that…_upstart_ managed to acquire something that you had hoped for so long would happen to you. Ten years or less in the making and here he is, appearing out of nowhere, his arrogance attracting all sorts of attention, the women flocking around him and Mr Snow summoning me from my cosy estate in England to give him a little bit of a polish. It must have galled you that this happened to him and not to you." He stands up straighter, his gaze fixed on his face, a face that is gradually becoming paler.

"Sir…" Wyndam lifts an imperative hand and James's words halt.

"You thought that you were being so clever. You knew about Hal's friendship with Mary, you knew that despite everything, despite his nature, that he would never harm her. You also knew about Mr Snow's rule about no one being harmed, especially Mistress Mary but you were jealous, insanely jealous of Hal weren't you? and you wanted to teach him a lesson."

"No sir…Hal is my friend…when he arrived Louis and I took him under our wings, we took care of him, showed him the ways of the household." Wyndam's expression darkens.

"I remember our conversation of the night that I arrived Mr Winterbourne. You told me that Hal was sweet on Mary and reluctant to leave her, that he was thinking about recruiting her. I may be an Old One but I am not an idiot." he hisses at him.

"This is just rumour sir, a theory…" he begins. His words stutter to a halt once again when Wyndam takes a step back and extracts something from this inside of his coat. It's a piece of paper.

"No Mr Winterbourne, not a rumour. You yourself gave me my proof…in this letter." he holds it aloft before reading it. He looks at James once more.

"This letter is…rather…_expressive_ don't you think, a plea from a man pining for his love to pay one last _secret_ visit before his departure?" he reaches inside his coat again. He takes out another similar piece of paper.

"During my meeting with him, I asked Hal whether he could read or write and he told me that he could…passably." he places the paper on the table beside James and he looks down at it as Wyndam extracts the first sheet of paper which he also places on the table so that they're side by side.

"I asked that he show me how passably he could write and well…you can see the results for yourself." One is a page of flowing, beautifully written script and if Wyndam hadn't seen Hal's own example for himself then he may have well believed it to have come from him. The other example is untidy and dotted with ink spots. The idea is there but the letters are poorly formed and hesitant. Hal had not liked his request at all.

"They are very different don't you agree?" Wyndam enquires, looking at James. His mouth opens and closes for a moment.

"Hal is very cunning Mr Wyndam sir, who is to say that he didn't provide both samples and deliberately used bad letter formation and untidiness?" James answers defensively. Wyndam turns and looks at him.

"Because of the added bait of Mary and let's not forget about the belladonna potion. Yes, I know about the poison." He smiles at his look of shock.

"The only way that Hal would attack and kill Mary is to be not of his right mind. We have been a witness to his night terrors and I have heard it told that during his celebration Hal was loud, argumentative and especially difficult in his behaviour. Then there is the disposal of Rose, the camp follower and there is also the fact that Mistress Alice described a _completely_ different gentleman to Hal as the one who purchased the potion though he gave Hal's name." At this, Wyndam turns his attention to Louis.

"Her description of _that_ Hal Yorke sounded very much like you Louis."

Absolute silence falls in the Great Hall. Then Wyndam looks back at James.

"Jealousy is a dangerous, corrosive emotion Mr Winterbourne. It eats away at a soul without mercy. Hal has been punished because of you and your underhanded dealings. I am always interested in quick thinking, in strength of mind and wit. I'm intrigued by intelligence and how it is applied. While you have this and possibly more, your jealousy overpowers all of it."

"And you have called me here to inform me of that? What is to be my punishment for using my quick thinking, strength of mind and my intelligence?" James retorts. A faint ghost of a smile crosses Wyndam's face.

"Where do you think Hal is at this very moment in time Mr Winterbourne? What do you think he would say to all of this skulduggery and trickery?" he waits a brief moment.

"I know. Shall we ask him?" Wyndam turns his head and as if on cue, the two bodyguard vampires move away from their position in front of the head table. James's eyes go wide when he sees Hal seated in Wyndam's chair, his feet on the table, idly cleaning his fingernails with a long silver bladed dagger. After a moment he lifts his head and he looks at Louis who by now has moved a little closer to James, then to James himself and then finally at Wyndam.

"I only curse the fact that I couldn't see this plot for myself. That I was so…_idiotic_ not to recognise it for what it truly was. A celebration with a cask of Mr Snow's finest wine?" he makes a rude sound with his lips as he lowers his legs to the ground and gets to his feet in one quick agile movement. "I won't fall for _that_ ruse again."

No one else speaks as he walks past Maria and skirts around the end of the long table.

"The only way that you could hope to better me was to try and take my place. The only way _that_ could happen was for you to implicate me in a plot so heinous that the only punishment would be my complete eradication." He stops in front of the small group.

"And the only way that was going to happen was for you to drug me, to try and poison me, knowing what you know about my past… _difficulties_." his voice lowers.

"You are n_obody!_" James bites back, his voice low and vibrant with anger.

"Yet quite innocently I managed to capture the attention of both Mr Snow and Edgar Wyndam. Imagine that? " He holds the dagger in his hand. It had been left in front of him as he had taken his seat and as he looks down at it he wonders whether it was placed there deliberately. He wields it and presses the edge of the blade against James's neck and watches as he goes absolutely still.

"Remember that conversation we had at dinner the other evening James? How you accused me of being afraid?" his hand is steady, the blade slicing into the thin skin, against where Hal knows the blood will flow the easiest. He watches with abstract fascination as a bright red bead bubbles up against the silver.

"You accused me of being afraid and I reminded _you _that while I was indeed fearless, I was also not stupid. _Your_ stupidity is what let you down James. Your arrogant abject stupidity." He begins to walk and helplessly James is forced to go backwards with him. His back bumps against the wood panelled wall and both men are once again still.

"You do this to me? You sacrifice an innocent life to humiliate _me_? She was my _friend_." his voice lowers to a bare whisper.

"You would have killed her one day" James hisses back at him and Hal tilts his head to one side.

"You don't know that." he replies softly and James slowly smiles.

"It was worth it. Your public humiliation, your downfall and knowing that I had done that to you was worth all of it. She came so willingly, she truly believed you were the author of that note. Right up until I offered her the wine and tied the scarf across her eyes, she believed that you loved her." James whispers. Slowly Hal lowers the blade but he does not break eye contact. His chin comes up and emotion burns at the backs of his eyes at his cruel words.

"You've made one grievous error James." he whispers to him, pushing his face closer to him. The amusement begins to fade from James's eyes. Hal turns the blade around and presses the tip of it against his throat.

"You were so desperate for attention but you didn't best me. You only think that you did." He puts his mouth against his ear. He pauses for a brief moment.

"Think again."

James's eyes bulge as with one vicious thrust, Hal forces the tip of the dagger into his throat. He chokes as blood gushes out of the wound and over Hal's hand. His hands come up and then drop uselessly by his sides as more flows from his mouth. Hal stares steadily at him and gives the blade one final brutal twist. James gives a final agonised gasp and then he is still.

* * *

Wyndam comes to stand beside Hal and he surveys James's still twitching body. He watches Hal takes a step back and James slides to the floor, the knife protruding obscenely from the front of his neck. Hal is pale but he is completely composed. Wyndam holds out a wooden stake.

"Do you want to finish the job?" he asks and Hal looks at it and then at him. A fine mist of blood droplets decorate his face. He shakes his head and turns. He sees Snow standing beside Louis and that he is flanked by the two bodyguards of before. Slowly he approaches them.

"Well met Mr Yorke, well met. And what of this one?" Snow asks, tilting his head towards Louis. Hal looks at him. He's reminded of how tall and powerfully built he is. He also sees the terror in his eyes.

"He can live and with it he will never forget my generosity. I'm sure we can find him a position within Mr Wyndam's household where I can keep an eye on him." he stares at him. Louis looks away but not before Hal sees the flash of gratitude that replaces that former fear.

"I'm certain Edgar will not have any complaints about that." Both of them turn to him, to see him straightening up, watching James's motionless body dissolve into ash and cobwebs. Hal looks back at Snow.

"If I may be excused?" he requests. Snow inclines his head.

"Of course." he demurs and Hal walks out of the Great Hall.

* * *

Snow watches Wyndam approach him. In one hand is the stake and in the other is the dagger, the blade of which he is wiping on the hem of his coat. He sees Louis still standing beside Snow and he pauses.

"And what about him?" he enquires, pointing the tip of the blade in his direction. Snow glances at him.

"Hal wants him kept alive; he thinks you may find a use for him." Wyndam arches an eyebrow.

"Does he now?"

"He spared his life and in turn that makes it his to decide upon, I think he has earned it don't you?" Wyndam casts another look Louis's way. He's waxen pale and sweating slightly.

"He has." he sighs and looks at him.

"Your life, such as it is belongs to Hal now. Be thankful for that; be thankful you didn't meet the end of your friend back there. We depart for England tomorrow." he sees how Louis nods, pathetically relieved. They watch him scuttle away. Wyndam looks around the Great Hall.

"Where is Hal?" Snow just shrugs.

"Returned to his chamber I imagine." he answers.

* * *

Hal returns to his chamber and he sits on the bed. He looks down at his blood soaked hands and clenches them into tight fists. He thinks of Mary and his throat tightens and tears swell in his eyes. He lifts his head and he takes a breath and swipes them away.

He has had his vengeance. Now he must face England's shores.

He starts when he hears the knock on his door. He frowns. Not now. He takes a deep breath and gets to his feet. He approaches the door and opens it.

The two men stare at each other.

"You did well in there." Wyndam begins. Hal doesn't answer.

"You will be better in time. We leave early tomorrow so you must be ready." Hal just nods.

"The sooner I am gone from this place, the happier I shall be." he mutters. Wyndam takes a step towards him and places a hand on his shoulder.

"You haven't fed properly, you must be starved." Hal regards him. He's right, ever since he was released from his cell he has been battling to keep the hunger pangs at bay. The lack of blood has made him a little unsteady, on edge, a little more…angry.

"Come with me. I have just the thing for you."

* * *

She looks up when she hears the scrape of the bar being drawn back from the door and the click of a lock being turned. Her previous rage has dulled somewhat and she refuses to allow the waiting fear to replace it. She watches as two men enter. She can't see their faces, they're in shadow but she recognises the outline of one of them. She straightens, her heart beat increasing. She shouldn't have believed him when he said that she would be safe, that she would be afforded safe passage from this place. She should have realised after what he'd revealed to her that her life was forfeit from the moment she stepped over the threshold.

Evil blooms in this place. It lives and it breathes like the trees, like the flowers that grow outside. The roots of it are deep and all pervading. She moves backwards as they come closer to her until her back is pressed against the cold damp wall.

"Alice...meet Hal." that voice introduces and Alice watches him step into the dim torchlight. Her eyes widen in recognition.

"You…" she whispers. Hal regards her almost curiously. Alice looks to his companion. He stands near to his shoulder, holding onto that lit torch.

"He's hungry you see. Don't worry, it will be quick." he murmurs. Alice looks back at Hal and he's still watching her and his gaze is steady. His head tilts slightly to one side and she feels honest fear curdle in the pit of her stomach.

"What…who are you?" she stammers, her eyes going wide.

"I thought you already knew what we are my dear." the other man replies. He moves away but not before Alice sees Hal's eyes bleed black, before she hears an unearthly hiss. She sees fangs and panic slams into her.

She screams as he attacks.


	11. Chapter 11

**Many thanks for the lovely reviews, i really appreciate them :) This chapter deals with the aftermath of the previous chapter and the group depart for England. All errors are my own and unintentional. Love to hear your thoughts. **

* * *

**Chapter Eleven:**

Hal does not want to be here but Snow has demanded his presence. Even though he has fed, inside he still feels as though he has been scrubbed raw. His insides ache and he wants to be alone to think.

There is a strange tension in the air as he makes his entrance. Across the room he sees Snow holding court, seated on a dais on yet another ornate golden throne with deep red cushions. At either side of him are seated those who have garnered his current approval. Hal won't call them favourites as he himself has realised, Snow's moods can change on a whim and favourites seems to be too generous a term to use. He looks for Wyndam but doesn't see either him or Maria in the room just yet. He subconsciously straightens his spine as Snow's attention turns towards him and a smile lights up his marble face.

He beckons him across and Hal makes his way to his side.

"Hal. How good of you to join us." he greets. Hal pauses in front of him and inclines his head. Snow makes it sounds as though he had a choice in the matter but he wisely holds his counsel.

"I would not miss it." he responds levelly. He watches as he indicates an empty chair to his right.

"Sit down, Edgar will be along shortly. He's always busy, fingers in every pie imaginable." He turns to one of his companions and in that moment Hal is forgotten. He goes to the indicated chair and sits on it. He's aware of the speculation; he's seen more than one glance sent in his direction. Is he supposed to feel some kind of guilt or remorse for what he did to James? He doesn't feel anything except a mild annoyance that he allowed himself to be so completely fooled by him. It would seem he considered him a friend only until he stepped over him to climb the ladder of promotion and how he had retaliated! He lifts his head and it's then he notices the myriad of new faces. There are many and he does not recognise any of them. They regard him with passing curiosity. They are wondering about him and why he is seated where he is.

He sees Wyndam arrive and he has Maria on his arm.

* * *

Wyndam glances briefly at Maria.

"Are you ready for this?" he enquires. He sees how her eyes slide across the collection of faces. Her smile is stiff and polite.

"As ever I must be. How many people did he invite?" her lips barely move but he hears every word.

"Possibly every single one of his acquaintances…we shall not stay long." he promises her in an equally low voice.

Wyndam smiles as he is surrounded by vampires. He knows all of them, has had dealings with many of them.

"I see Hal." Maria murmurs in his ear and Wyndam lifts his head. He sees him seated close to Snow and he looks bored.

"Bring him here." he tells her and watches as she moves away to do his bidding.

Hal watches as Maria approaches him.

"Wyndam requires your presence." she tells him once she's within hearing distance and he frowns.

"For what?" he demands and Maria frowns as she gets closer to him.

"It's not for you to question or to disagree Hal, you must do as you are bid." she whispers at him and his frown deepens.

"I'm tired of doing what I am bid to do." he spits back and she sighs.

"It will not be for very long. You owe him Hal, you owe him everything." she retorts as her eyes become diamond hard. Hal sighs and stands up. Maria waits and then slides her arm through his.

"What are you doing?" Hal enquires as they approach Wyndam.

"I don't like these events very much. These parties Snow holds the night before the full moon. I'm sick of some of these upstarts trying to touch parts of me that they have no permission in touching. At least with you beside me they will cease trying." she mutters. He glances at her and then casts a look around at the variety of people present. He looks back at her.

"I'm surprised they are still alive." he comments, his previous petulant mood evaporating and he is satisfied to hear her chuckle.

"I'm on my best behaviour tonight Hal otherwise they wouldn't be, not in the ways that matter." She smiles as they join Wyndam.

"Ah and here he is…" Wyndam begins and holds out an arm and obediently Hal goes to his side. His hands go behind his back as he surveys the faces that examine him with open uncomfortably open curiosity.

"This is why I'm here William…" he begins and Hal glances at him for a moment and sees his attention fixed upon someone who is standing across from him. He also looks at him and sees a tall thin gentleman. There is barely an ounce of extra flesh on his bones and those bones are long and slender. His black hair is brushed back from his face and his eyes are deep set and dark. He looks like a walking cadaver.

"This is Hal Yorke." Wyndam introduces. Hal nods his head but doesn't speak.

"So you are finished with Robert are you?" William enquires, more or less completely ignoring Hal. Wyndam nods.

"He's doing well the last that I heard. He endeavours to keep in touch." he replies. He watches how William then looks at Hal with an intensity that many find unnerving. Hal stares back at him, barely blinking.

"So you're Alexei's recruit." William's voice rises slightly and any conversation being held within the small group fades away. Hal straightens and he lifts his chin.

"He was the one who afforded me this life, yes." he replies in a quieter tone. William's eyes narrow slightly.

"And yet you ended him." William's tone is blunt. There is a brief but tense pause.

"I did." Hal confirms.

"I must ask why." William demands, a spark of anger flashing in those dark eyes of his. Wyndam watches the exchange with mild interest.

"You may ask sir but I will not tell you why." he answers with just enough manners to be civil. Wyndam sees William's expression darken further.

"He was a good man!" he hisses, his skin flushing with barely concealed anger. Wyndam sees how Hal glances at him before he speaks.

"That is your opinion. Unfortunately it was not mine." he looks at the other people present within their group. He then returns his attention to Wyndam.

"With you permission sir, I should like to depart. We have an early start tomorrow and I am feeling very… _weary_." his tone is excruciatingly polite.

"Of course Hal." he answers. Hal bows his head and he turns. The group watch him as he weaves his way through the crowds of people and leaves.

"_That's_ your newest protégé?" William hisses. Wyndam turns his head and regards him.

"That is Hal. He's an interesting fellow isn't he?" he grins.

* * *

"Did you know that Mr Snow was organising tonight's party?" Maria enquired. They are seated together on the edge of the room out of the way of immediate attention. Wyndam is glad for her company. He has barely had a moment to himself. He must have spoken to every single vampire in this room and then Maria had reappeared bearing wine.

"I should have realised given that tomorrow is the full moon but I have been somewhat…preoccupied." he answers and he takes a sip of his wine. He wishes for something more potent but that will have to wait a little longer. All of a sudden he feels weary.

"Ah yes. The full moon. Have you been down to see Snow's latest stray?" she smiles at him.

"I may have looked in on him. It's a pity we have to depart tomorrow; I should have liked to have put a wager on him to win of course. I've heard that he's almost invincible."

"On his hind quarters he is taller than most men. They don't stand a chance." Wyndam glances at her.

"You sound very confident my pet, have you also placed a wager on him to win?" he enquires and she grins at him.

"You know me well Edgar." Wyndam quietly chuckles.

"Indeed I do. Well I must take your leave. Tomorrow will be a long day." he begins to rise and Maria follows suit.

"As must I. Escort me to my rooms?" she requests. Wyndam looks at her and after a moment he holds out an arm.

"Let's make it quick otherwise we may be stuck here until dawn." he mutters.

* * *

"Hal is very quiet." Maria comments once they are free from the celebration.

"Wouldn't you be? It was a nasty business." They begin to walk, heading towards Maria's chamber.

"And then there is tonight's event. He handled William particularly well don't you think?" she looks at him.

"He did I have to admit. With a civility that I have to disclose I quite admired. I wouldn't have been so polite. William was very rude." Maria sighs.

"William is never polite Edgar; we know he's an acquired taste at the best of times but he _was_ close to Alexei. Why did you introduce Hal to him?" Wyndam looks at her and a secretive smile plays around his lips.

"You really have to ask? And I wanted to see how the boy would handle himself."

"Ah, a test." Maria guesses.

"One he seems to have passed. He has immense self-control for one so young."

"I've never seen it before, newly made vampires tend to be…volatile and hard to handle but Hal is different." Maria comments.

"I thought he was just like other young vampires when I was first introduced to him. He certainly gave that impression but then as I got to know him…and then witnessed the situation with James…" his voice tapers off.

"The incident with James has cast quite the pall over everything and everyone. He was very popular." Maria tells him and he looks at her. He frowns.

"He deserved what happened to him, he brought it on himself. He plotted against Hal and he was discovered and suitably punished."

"And why didn't you despatch of him yourself? You laid the groundwork; I thought for sure you would end him, which is what you would normally do." Wyndam glances at her.

"I wanted to see what Hal is made of, what _he_ would do. I wanted to see whether this reputation he has garnered is worthwhile."

"And is it?" she looks at him and she sees the gleam in his eye as he remembers how he had thrust that blade through James's throat. The blade had sliced all the way through. He was particularly impressed by the speed and the viciousness of how he operated.

"I'm beginning to see what it is that fascinates Snow so much. I'm beginning to realise why he asked for me. He could be someone formidable with the right amount of…training and influence." Wyndam confesses. He smiles to himself.

"It is going to be a fascinating process to see who will emerge."

* * *

They walk for a little while more.

"So what happens now?" she asks as they come close to her rooms and he pauses by her door.

"Hal and I depart for England early tomorrow. He has expressed a desire to leave; all of this has left a very bad taste in his mouth."

"Did he like the witch?" she asks and Wyndam smiles.

"He did. It was good thinking on your part to keep her for him. She put up quite a spirited fight but was no match for a hungry, anger-fuelled vampire."

"Peter and Phillip are clearing out her property as I speak. By the time they're finished, it will be as though she never existed. As far as the townsfolk are concerned, she left in the dead of night." he sees how her eyes twinkle.

"You always were a devious one Maria, that mind of yours will get you into trouble one day." Wyndam responds lightly and she quietly chuckles in response.

"If I may ask a favour of you Edgar…" she begins.

"Name it." He pretends not to see the surprise in her eyes.

"I have a hankering to visit my English home again and I was wondering whether you and Hal would welcome an extra travelling companion?" she asks. Wyndam regards her.

"This is not a ruse to stay with Hal is it?" He watches how her eyes widen.

"Of course not. I just think after today's events, I would welcome a change of scenery." she confides and he frowns.

"Someone has maligned you?" his voice goes dangerously soft. She shakes her head.

"No one would dare speak to me as such Edgar, you know that. I just would like to go home for a little while." Wyndam regards her.

"You are more than welcome to accompany us Maria, you know that." he tells her in a calmer voice. She smiles.

"Thank you Edgar. And also…thank you for what you did for Hal. You could have left him to suffer the fate of Snow's whims but you didn't. You fought for him and I am truly grateful." Wyndam swallows, all of a sudden feeling mildly uncomfortable and exposed.

"It was nothing. You like the boy and you are a good judge of character." he answers gruffly.

"As are you. You are the best judge of character that I know and he is your charge, not mine. I want you to know that I appreciate what you did for him and I'm in your debt."

"No you are not. You're never in debt to me for anything Maria. Now come along, I plan an early start tomorrow and you must pack and rest, you know I don't tolerate lateness." she smiles up at him.

"I know you don't and I'm already packed and ready to leave." she tells him and he raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, so you were confident I'd accept your request were you?" Maria doesn't answer, she just shrugs, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Wyndam smiles once more.

"Time for you to sleep…I will see you in the morning, bright and early." Maria takes a step towards him and she presses a kiss against his cheek. It takes him by surprise.

By the time he's regained his equilibrium, she's gone.

* * *

The sun is barely over the horizon when Wyndam emerges from the interior of the property. He looks up at the pinkish grey sky. It promises to be a good day for travelling and they have a long journey ahead of them. He pauses when he sees Hal standing beside the wagon that is loaded with their possessions. He is clad in unforgiving black, such as himself, a black leather doublet with velvet sleeves. He is also armed; Wyndam sees the belt holding his sword sheath around his waist. He turns when he hears footsteps and watches Wyndam approach him.

"This must be a first. You are ready for the day ahead of me. We have an extra companion…"

"I have heard, Maria is to join us."

"She may be on time to join us or she may be late. Either way she will be joining us." Wyndam tells him.

"Oh Edgar, ye of little faith, I would not keep you waiting." Maria's voice chides him and both of them turn in her direction and Hal's eyes widen with surprise.

"Eyes forward…" Wyndam commands and he looks at him with wide startled eyes.

"But…"

"I _said_ eyes forward." he repeats in a softer voice but the authority is not diminished. Obediently Hal does as he's told as Maria comes to join them. She's wearing travelling clothes, a doublet and breeches in dark green. Her shapely legs are on view for everyone to see and she seems most unaffected by it. Her hair has been pinned up and is hidden by a hat. The difference is most startling. Wyndam regards her.

"Your usual choice of travelling clothes my dear?" he enquires politely. She smiles up at him.

"Would you rather I wear my more cumbersome gowns? This is much more comfortable and practical. Do you have any objections Edgar? You usually don't." she enquires sweetly and he slowly shakes his head.

"Of course not but you gave poor Hal quite a start." he answers and Hal's head snaps around to look at him. His eyes narrow slightly.

"Oh Hal…you will quickly get used to my whims my dear. Is everything ready?" she looks to both of them.

"As far as I am aware, yes." Wyndam replies, looking to Hal for confirmation. He just nods.

"And where is your newest servant?" Wyndam enquires and Hal inclines his head back towards the wagon and there is Louis, seated and ready to drive off.

"Ah." Wyndam continues.

"He has taken the greatest of care of me since yesterday. I have not wanted for anything." Hal tells him in a quiet voice. Wyndam's blue eyes are sombre.

"You put the fear of God into him with the manner that you disposed of James. He will be hoping that you do not do the same to him."

"And I won't, if he does what I ask when I ask." Hal answers in the quiet manner that Wyndam is getting used to as his way of speaking. He looks to Maria.

"If we are ready to leave…"

* * *

Hal stands beside his horse and runs a hand over his black shining hide. The beast stands still, waiting patiently for him. He regards him. He's had him for two years now, a last gift from Alexei. Hal slides his foot into the stirrup and launches himself into the saddle. He was a foot soldier before he was turned but he has always had an affinity with horses. He was always able to calm the especially skittish ones back home, back before…

He sits straight in the saddle and waits for both Wyndam and Maria to come into view.

"Beautiful animal, does he have a name?" Maria asks as she comes beside him. Hal tightens his grip on the reins as the horse side steps nervously.

"His name is Achilles." Hal replies as he leans forward and strokes the beast's neck reassuringly and gradually the horse calms down again. Maria smiles softly.

"It suits him; he's a noble looking animal and named after one of the greatest Greek warriors." Hal glances at her.

"He was a gift from Alexei, he named him."

"Alexei had a good eye." Wyndam interrupts coming up on Hal's other side and once more the horse begins to shy. Wyndam watches how he calms the animal and how the horse seems to calm almost instantly beneath his touch. He seems strangely confident on that horse, as if he were born to it. His eyes drop to the faded and slightly battered shield that is attached to the harness by the beast's shoulder. He stares at it for a moment and then he remembers Hal's earlier revelation that before recruitment he was a mercenary foot soldier. He assumes this shield is from that era. He stares at the faded red paint a moment longer before he lifts his head and looks at his waiting companions.

"Shall we depart?" he asks them. Hal looks at him and he nods.

* * *

"He does not say much." Wyndam comments. Maria looks at Hal, who rides ahead of them. She glances back at him.

"I thought you would be grateful for that. Idle chatter annoys you does it not?"

"And absolute silence annoys me more." he murmurs back at her and she bites back a smile.

"He is not ignoring you Edgar. He is just the quiet type, when he isn't sleeping and lost in nightmares." she quips and Wyndam rolls his eyes.

"I suppose I'm too used to prattling little sycophants only too eager to do my bidding."

"Hal is neither of those as you well know. In fact I believe that the quieter ones are the much more dangerous ones. We are never entirely sure what they are thinking about." she reminds him and Wyndam returns his attention to Hal's straight back.

"I agree." he murmurs.

* * *

The sun is high in the sky when they make their first stop. Hal dismounts and momentarily stretches stiff and aching limbs. He turns as both Wyndam and Maria pause beside him. Hal looks up at Maria and holds out a gloved hand. She looks at him for a moment before she places her hand in his and allows herself to be helped down from the saddle. He turns his head as Wyndam comes into view.

"Time to eat don't you think?" he suggests and Hal turns to look for Louis.

"An excellent idea." he agrees.

They settle beside a fast flowing stream. Hal tethers the horses to a low lying branch of a nearby tree. He turns to see Maria with Wyndam. Their heads are together and they are quietly talking though he cannot hear what they are discussing. He approaches them and lowers himself down onto the grass beside them.

"How long until we reach our first destination?" Maria enquires. She sips at the wine that Louis has given to her. She looks enquiringly to Wyndam.

"We should arrive before nightfall." he answers in a low voice and Hal frowns at the note of resolve in his voice.

"Why?" he asks and both Wyndam and Maria turn their heads and look at him and they seem surprised.

"It's a full moon tonight." Maria whispers and then she rolls her eyes at the look of puzzlement on Hal's face.

"Surely Alexei told you what happens during a full moon, why every one of our kind must be indoors or at least out of harm's way?" Slowly Hal shook his head.

"Oh that man…" she hisses crossly and she looks to Wyndam once more.

"The full moon is when werewolves roam." Wyndam tells him and he watches as Hal's eyes widen.

"Werewolves?"

"Alexei should have told you of their existence." Maria interrupts.

"Well he didn't." Hal retorts. The look Maria sends him is icy.

"Obviously." she replies. Beside her, Wyndam clears his throat. The quarrelling duo falls silent.

"Werewolves are our enemy. Like us they are made rather than born and such a person can be made by a scratch or a bite from such a beast. By day they live among us but on the night of a full moon then they turn into ravenous beasts to be feared and kept away from. Once shed, their blood burns a vampire's skin, if werewolf blood is consumed then it is fatal to a vampire, it burns us from the inside out." Hal hears the disgust in his voice.

"You do not care for them?" He sees the glimmer in his blue eyes.

"They are vermin, base born and utterly below us," the look he sends Hal is dark "They can also sense our kind and they hate us accordingly."

"How do we kill them?" Hal asks curiously.

"I'm sure there are ways, an arrow to the heart perhaps. They rampage, we try not to get too close to them and wait until sunrise."

"And tonight is a full moon?" Wyndam inclines his head in a nod. Hal frowns.

"Have you ever come close to a werewolf?" he asks curiously. Wyndam turns his head slightly and Hal sees how his eyes seem to mist over with memory.

"Once…a very long time ago. It is not an experience I wish to repeat. Be sure to hope that you never have to yourself," he pauses and the slightest of smiles slips across his face "the stench of them is quite unbelievable."

* * *

Hal moves away from the small group to sit beside the stream. Achilles is close by, cropping at the grass at his feet and to all intents and purposes at ease with his surroundings. Hal stares at the rushing babbling water for a moment or two. He empties his mind and thinks of nothing. He ignores the slow churning in his gut, the same churning that reminds him that England is becoming ever closer and ever more a reality to him. He lifts his face slightly and feels a soft warm breeze caress his face. Perhaps it won't be so bad. Perhaps circumstances have changed. It's been a while now.

Perhaps _he's_ dead, that a kind soul has gutted him like the pig that he is. He frowns very slightly.

"Penny for them?" Maria's voice startles him and he turns his head sharply. She comes closer and sits down on the bank beside him, her legs stretched out in front of her. He still cannot get used to seeing her legs like that, for all to see. He huffs out a sigh.

"A penny for what?" he asks. He looks at her but she doesn't smile.

"Your thoughts." Hal looks away, down into the water and he watches fish flitting here and there beneath its silvery surface.

"They are not worth that." he murmurs.

"Then what are they worth?" she asks. Once more he looks to her.

"Nothing. They are not worth a thing." he climbs to his feet and strides away towards his horse.

Maria watches him as he talks quietly to the animal. There is very real affection for him in his eyes; she can see it quite clearly. He still will not open up enough to share more than the most trivial thoughts with her. Even after everything that has been done on his behalf. She gets to her feet and brushes dried grass from the back of her outfit and she walks towards him and untethers her own horse. Hal does not speak nor does he look at her.

"I am not the enemy Hal. Whoever it is that haunts your thoughts and your dreams at night, _that_ person is the enemy." He turns his head and he looks at her.

"Nobody haunts my dreams." he tells her.

"Yes they do, you're just not brave enough to tell me his or her name just yet."


	12. Chapter 12

**Many thanks to those of you still reading this and leaving me your thoughts. Very much appreciated. In this chapter Hal has his first encounter with a werewolf. All errors are my own and unintentional. Love to hear your thoughts :) **

* * *

**Chapter Twelve. **

As the day moves along and the sky begins to change colour, the atmosphere becomes thicker with tension within the travelling party. Everyone is vigilant and on their guard. No one speaks. No one indulges in mindless empty conversation to try and ease the strain.

Hal's eyes scan the horizon and attempts to see more clearly through the trees at either side of the narrow rutted road. The light is beginning to fail. He knows what that means, that they must be inside before the moon rises.

Ahead of him and equally watchful is Maria. He urges his horse on to ride beside her. She turns her head as he does so but there's no smile of welcome on her face, no flirtatious twinkle in her eyes. She's just as tense as everyone else but she tries to hide it beneath a veneer of composure.

The sky grows even more dusky and long with shadows. An unearthly scream shatters the stillness and behind him Hal hears one of the wagon horses give a distressed whinny and he turns in time to see one of them rear on its hind legs and then pull away. Its mate copies, given no choice but to follow and the wagon catapults away. Beneath him, Achilles twitches, his ears flatten against his skull and it takes Hal a moment or two to calm him. In the meantime the wagon has careered off the track and is racing through the forest.

Hal doesn't think twice; he gives chase.

He bends low over the horse's neck as he gallops after the panicking wagon horses. He sees one of the wheels of the wagon bounce over a partially hidden rock and it teeters drunkenly. He spurs Achilles on until he's alongside the wagon. The vehicle bounces along and Hal hears the sound of splintering wood. He pushes his horse on until he's alongside one of the terrified beasts and he leans forward and he leans across and reaches for one of the loose tangled reins. Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone else come up on the opposite side and do the same. He realises that it's Maria. It takes a little time but eventually the horses slow to a stop. As soon as that happens Hal dismounts and hurries to the wagon. It rests at an awkward angle. He climbs up and he looks inside. Louis is lying in the back, having been thrown back as the wagon lurched forwards.

"Louis…" he climbs inside and watches his eyes slowly blink open.

"What…what happened?" he mumbles as Hal helps him to sit up.

"A fox scream scared the horses. You must have been knocked out. Come sit down." He helps him off the wagon and to a patch of grass nearby. In the meantime Wyndam is there and he stands beside Maria as she calms the panting horses.

"Is there any damage?" Hal asks, coming to join them. Wyndam looks at him.

"Rear wheel is damaged." he looks over Hal's shoulder to Louis who still sits beneath the overhang of a large tree.

"How is your friend?" Hal glances at him.

"A little dazed but unharmed." he replies and he goes to inspect the damaged wheel. He looks back at Wyndam.

"Is there a replacement in the wagon?" Wyndam nods.

"I'll need help but I can make the wagon road worthy until we reach our destination." he tells him.

"Then do it."

The two younger vampires work together quickly and diligently but Wyndam can see that Hal is plainly in charge. A wheel was packed with the luggage along with requisite tools and Hal seems familiar with them all. Once more Wyndam is surprised and intrigued by him. His attention is distracted by Maria who stands nearby and watches the shadows. He slowly approaches her and sees her turn to look at him. She looks tense.

"How much longer?" she hisses quietly. Wyndam pauses beside her and he looks to Hal and Louis.

"Not much, they are nearly done." he answers in an equally low voice.

"I wish to be gone from here Edgar. The moon has almost fully risen. I can _smell_ them!" she retorts through clenched teeth. Wyndam turns his head. The forest is quiet, apart from the sound of a breeze whispering through leaves and branches. His spine prickles. He looks back to Maria.

"Are you prepared?" he looks down as she draws her sword slightly from its sheath.

"Always." she answers.

* * *

"Do you think there are werewolves nearby?" Louis whispers to Hal as they finish repairing the wheel. Hal looks at him and then he glances at Maria and Wyndam over one shoulder. Their vigilance has not gone unnoticed.

"I would think so, yes." he tells him. He watches how his eyes widen and his skin goes paler.

"We are all armed. If there is trouble we will manage it." he reassures him but he sees how Louis's eyes dart around the enclosure. Hal grabs his arm and squeezes it.

"You must calm yourself otherwise foolish accidents will happen. I will not let anything happen to you so do not worry."

"You're a soldier Hal; you're used to the anticipation of battle, of war. I'm not. I'm… _afraid_." he whispers. Hal regards him and he wonders how he ever became a vampire.

"They are not worthy of an ounce of your fear. Be on your guard. If you show any signs of weakness then they will make for it. Even if you are quaking in your boots, don't ever show it to the outside world." he hisses at him.

They make it back onto the main road. The sky above them is clear and a chill breeze blows. Hal watches and he listens and he grips onto his shield tightly.

"Be aware." Wyndam warns them in a low voice. Hal doesn't respond, his eyes scan the shadowed periphery. It is black with mystery and he wonders what lurks there. Wyndam is at the front with Maria behind him. Hal turns his head and looks to Louis. He sits quietly at the front of the wagon, the reins in his hands and his eyes are wide and watchful. Hal turns Achilles back to ride alongside him.

"Louis…" he hisses and watches his head snap around in his direction.

"Remain calm. You'll be safe. I promise you that I won't let anyone or anything hurt you." he keeps his voice low but his tone is vehement.

"And do _not_ let Wyndam see you like this. Be brave." he continues. He goes to the rear of the cavalcade and he sighs quietly and shakily.

* * *

Time seems to slow down.

Every muscle is tense and despite the chill of the evening, sweat trickles down between Hal's shoulder blades. He aches from it and wishes they were at their destination. It can't be much further now. He can hear Louis's fearful curses each time the wagon lurches into a rut or a pot hole. Hal's stomach churns and his hands are slick. A shadow bursts across their path and startles Hal. It doesn't stop and he assumes that it's another fox or some similar creature. He exhales loudly and he looks up to the sky.

The moon has risen full and silver. He swallows. He returns his attention to the road and he sees Wyndam slow to a halt. He turns his head and he looks at Hal.

"Our destination is close." he tells him.

"Then let us hurry." Hal responds, allowing a modicum of relief to bleed through. Their destination means relative safety. It will not be long now.

A long hollow howl echoes on the air and all four of them stiffen. Hal's head snaps around to his right as something explodes through the undergrowth and heads straight for him.

Before he knows what is happening, he's thrown from the saddle. He lands heavily onto the ground and his breath leaves his lungs in an agonised rush. For a moment he can't breathe and darkness blurs the edge of his vision. Above him Achilles rears, whinnying and dancing and Hal curls himself into a tight ball as the horse twists around, eager to be free of the chaos that is all of a sudden erupting around him. The horse bolts as Hal staggers to his feet, his shield still attached to his forearm. His legs feel weak and barely able to support his weight and for a brief moment his head swims dizzily. He hears a low guttural snarl and it sounds like it is coming from close beside him. He blinks and gives his head a shake to clear it and at the same time he unsheathes his sword. He sees the beast charge at him and instinctively he lifts his shield upwards and he hears the scrape and scratch of long talons against the metal. He staggers back beneath the onslaught as the werewolf snarls and launches another attack, throwing itself at him. Hal raises his shield again and the wolf batters against it. It causes Hal to stagger backwards once more and lose his balance. He falls heavily for a second time and his head hits the ground with an audible thud. He sees the dark silhouette of the thing above him. Its acrid scent catches the back of his throat and makes his eyes water. He sees it lunge towards him and automatically he pushes the shield above himself as it lands on top of him and he heaves with all of his might. The beast is thrown off to the side and Hal rolls in the opposite direction, scrabbling for his dropped weapon and is quickly on his feet again. He ignores the throbbing at the back of his head as he brandishes his sword and he gets his first clear look at a werewolf.

His eyes widen when he sees the beast. It's as tall as a man, heavily muscled with a thick covering of coarse grey fur. It draws back lips from a long snout and he sees long yellowing fangs. Hal swallows. It charges again and Hal slashes at its neck, the blade flashing silver in the moonlight. It slices cleanly across and a great gout of blood spurts out. Hal ducks behind the shield and jumps back as the creature gives a scream and collapses onto the road at his feet. He spins and sees another wolf lunge towards the wagon. Louis kicks out at it, knocking it back into the road. Hal runs towards it and runs his blade through it and watches as it falls. Hal places his foot on its back and he yanks his blade free. He then turns to see Wyndam swing a double headed axe at the head of another one and he watches it crumple to the ground. His eyes then widen and he turns again, his eyes searching for Maria and he sees her still mounted but breathing heavily. A long bladed sword dangles from one hand. The corpse of another werewolf lies at the feet of her horse.

"Is everyone well?" Wyndam is suddenly beside Hal and he looks at him. Hal nods. Sweat makes his shirt cling to his skin and his breath gasps out of his lungs. His body feels as though it is on fire it is aching so ferociously.

"Yes…though I have… no idea… where my horse is…" he answers, bending over at the waist, trying to draw breath into starved lungs.

"He will not be far away." Wyndam comments as Hal slowly straightens and looks at him.

"You will need to clean both your sword and your shield after we've disposed of these bodies." He indicates the corpses of the four werewolves that are scattered about the road. Hal glances at them and he frowns.

"There were four all together?"

"A pack and I'm sure there will be more. We must get them off the road and hidden. We must do it now." he tells him and Hal sighs tiredly. He pulls his shield off his forearm and he sees the red blood that is splattered across the surface of his shield, it drips off the sword blade too.

"You can use this." Maria comments and he turns his head and watches as she dismounts and approaches him. In her hand is a rag which she hands to him.

"Do it now before it dries, we'll start on the body disposal." Wyndam instructs. Hal just nods and then winces at the pain he feels at the back of his head.

"What's the matter?" Maria's voice is sharp. Hal frowns.

"It is nothing…"

"I'm sure it is not. You hit the ground quite hard. Twice." she moves to stand behind him and slides her fingers into his hair. He winces as she prods the back of his head.

"Must you?" he demands sharply.

"Yes, it would seem that I must. You are bleeding, the cut is quite deep." and she shows him her blood stained fingers as proof.

"It will heal." he mutters. He looks at her.

"You are unharmed yourself?" he tacks on and sees how she rolls her eyes.

"This is not the first werewolf pack that I've encountered and Louis helped keep them at bay. He was almost heroic, certainly brave considering I could hear him cursing and bellyaching with every rut in the road we hit." she retorts. Hal casts a glance at Louis who is slowly walking towards him.

"Let me look after that Hal." he indicates the shield as well as the sword and Hal hands them off to him.

Hal, Maria and Wyndam haul the carcasses off the road and roll them down a steep ditch. Hal stands beside him on the edge of it and he looks down.

"They may not be discovered for days, perhaps weeks. We must make haste, our destination is not far. You fought well." Wyndam looks at him.

Hal doesn't reply and instead he turns his head and he looks around.

"Is there a problem?" Wyndam enquires and Hal looks back at him.

"I need to find my errant horse." he tells him.

"Look no further…" Maria interrupts and as Hal looks at her, she points and he turns again. He sees Achilles returning, reins trailing and Hal bites back a smile.

* * *

Hal looks up at the grand looking house. He then turns his head and he looks to Wyndam.

"This is where we are staying?" he enquires and watches as he dismounts.

"It is. Matthew is …one of us." he answers and Hal turns his head in the opposite direction as the front door opens and a myriad of people spill out of it. His hands tighten briefly on the reins of his horse and he takes a deep breath and then follows Wyndam's lead.

"Mr Wyndam…" Matthew, or who Hal assumes is Matthew greets him with a quick bow, his eyes dancing over both Hal and Maria's faces. He gives Maria's outfit a perfunctory glance before returning his attention to Wyndam.

"Apologies for the delay Matthew…there were…unavoidable interruptions during our journey. We would have been here before sunset otherwise."

"It is of no matter sir, you are here now. Come inside…all of you." he smiles at them and turns and heads back towards the house.

* * *

Hal is given a small room at the top of the house. He looks at the plain furniture and the simple bed. He turns his head and he looks at the girl who accompanies him. She carries a tray which contains food and drink. He sees as she places it on a table beside the window. She straightens and looks at him.

"Thank you…"

"Jane sir…" she replies as she looks away. Hal stares at her. She's human. He can hear her heart thumping in her chest, the whoosh of blood through veins and he is reminded of the fact that it has been a while since he last fed. The witch in the cellar come to think of it. His stomach growls and unconsciously he draws an arm across it.

"Could I have some hot water brought up?" he requests and she smiles at him.

"Of course." she all but whispers and Hal watches her leave.

Every muscle in his body aches as he sits on the edge of the bed. He kicks off his boots and slowly peels off his doublet. One sleeve is torn. He checks his body for signs of injury, for any mislaid scratches or gouges but finds nothing except a patchwork of dark bruising that's beginning to bloom along his left arm and shoulder. It will be gone by morning but right at this moment it aches fiercely. He sighs and stares at the plain whitewashed wall in front of him. The confrontation with the werewolves had been both exhilarating and equally terrifying but he had survived. He turns his head towards the door when he hears the tentative knocking. He gets to his feet and opens it. Jane stands there; carrying a large jug nestled inside of a bowl, a square of white linen is looped over one arm.

"Your hot water Mr Yorke." she tells him. He stands to one side and lifts an arm to invite her inside. He sees how she looks at him, how her skin flushes pink and he looks down and sees his grubby bare skin on display and he barely bites back a smile.

"Thank you." he answers and watches as she places it on the table that is situated beside the window. She places the cloth beside it and looks at him. She bobs him a little curtsey that strangely charms him and he watches as she turns to depart. He then starts forward but then halts, clenching his fists instead. He watches the door close quietly behind her and he sighs gustily. He turns towards the table and sees the steam curling from the jug she's just left there. He approaches it.

There's another knock on his door and the suddenness of it makes him start. He turns as the door opens and he sees Louis there. He carries a small dish, a cloth covering it. He steps inside and closes the door behind him. Hal watches him curiously.

"Compliments of the house." he tells him in a low voice and as he comes closer, Hal catches the scent of it and his stomach growls again. Louis places it on the table beside the jug and he looks at him.

"Mr Wyndam wants to leave by sunrise, he asks me to tell you not to be late." there is a brief pause and Louis looks down.

"About this evening…"

"It is forgotten. I shall not be late. Good night Louis." Hal interrupts. Louis blinks and then nods his head.

"I shall let Mr Wyndam know then. Good night Hal." Hal watches him take his leave. Once he hears the click of the door closing, he turns again.

He sees the bowl left for him. Eagerly he reaches for it and uncovers it. He smiles and as he drinks, his eyes slide blissfully closed. It is warm and comforting and deliciously fresh. As he drains the last of it, they open again and his eyes are a shiny inky black. He stares sightlessly ahead for a moment and then he blinks and it is gone.

He lifts the jug and pours the steaming water into the bowl. He dips the cloth into it and slowly, methodically he begins to wash. He feels the heat of the water on his skin but it doesn't last for long. His mind begins to empty as he cleans away the events of the day. He would like to bathe properly but even he knows it isn't possible in an establishment such as this one, it is too time consuming considering their planned early departure in the morning. Perhaps he'll have the opportunity to before they set sail. He frowns against that thought, of crossing that narrow strip of sea and arriving back in England. He would rather not but he owes Wyndam. As Maria has reminded him, he owes him everything now.

He tries not to think about them, he tries not to remember but it's difficult. It seems the closer he gets, the more they intrude on his thoughts. He dips the cloth back into the water and watches the water turn muddy. He lifts it out again and hears the water drip. He doesn't really feel the heat of the water as he rubs the cloth across his chest, increasing the pressure as if trying to clean from the outside in. He doesn't feel the scrape of the roughened material against his skin, does not notice how it turns red beneath the onslaught. He's thinking about England, about London, about Lizzie.

About _him._

* * *

They depart early the following morning with a different wagon. Wyndam had declared that the old one 'reeked of dead dog' and Matthew was only too happy to provide a replacement.

Hal has an ache in the pit of his stomach that neither food nor rest can ease. He's hungry, he is always hungry but this is something different, it is sharper and beyond his control.

"We'll reach our destination by night fall." Wyndam tells him. Hal lifts a quizzical eyebrow.

"And which destination will that be?" he enquires.

"A step closer to home Hal and with a favourable wind, we shall be in England presently."

England. _Home_.

Hal swallows against a suddenly dry throat.


	13. Chapter 13

**Many thanks for the lovely reviews. In this chapter Hal ends up being a very, very badly behaved boy. Warnings for scenes of a grown up nature that may (or may not) shock...you have been warned.**

**And just to clarify, we don't know the exact circumstances of Hal's pre vampire life except what he shared in his prequel. There has been a lot of speculation and supposition on line about his beginnings, how he got his name for instance. My interpretation for the purpose of this fic is included in this chapter. Just remember that there is no right or wrong answer, it is all subjective. Apart from that, any errors are my own and unintentional. Love to hear your thoughts as usual :)**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen.**

It's raining when they arrive at their promised destination. Hal looks up at the large house that is situated high above the harbour town. He turns his head and amidst the misery and the murk of the inclement weather, he can just about see down towards the harbour itself. He looks back and scowls and dismounts. He is soaked through and miserable because of it.

"Who owns this property?" he asks Maria as they follow Wyndam inside. Once inside they remove hats and cloaks and Hal runs his fingers through damp hair.

"It's owned by Wyndam, who do you think?" she replies. She unhooks her travelling cloak and hands it off to a nearby servant. She scowls.

"I hate the rain." she mutters, glaring out of the window. Hal turns to look also.

"Why?" he asks curiously.

"Less fun to be had in this weather, although all I want to do is eat and sleep, I'm too tired for fun this evening." she sighs.

* * *

His travelling chest is deposited in his room at the foot of his bed. Hal stands beside the wide bed and he touches the dark red velvet hangings that drape each corner.

It's certainly a more sumptuous room than the ones he has stayed in previous days. He stands at the foot of the bed and looks around. Tapestries grace three of the walls, succeeding in keeping the chill of the late afternoon at bay. There is a fireplace and a fire burns in the hearth and he stares at it for a moment or two, watching how the orange flames dance and tease. He blinks and turns his head and walks towards the window that offers him a view of the harbour town that is stretched out before him. It is still raining and the cloud is low and murky looking. He can imagine that in the distance he'll be able to see the faint tableau of the harbour and awaiting ships. He frowns and folds his arms. How long before he's aboard one of them and heading back to England's shores. He swore never to return, after Lizzie, he has no reason to. Wyndam is sure to have business in London and curiosity will always drag him back to that place. He sighs and unfolds his arms. He can feel exhaustion nag at him and such tiredness makes him more prone to increasingly maudlin thoughts.

* * *

_It always begins the same. He is summoned to attend and he has no option but to obey him. He doesn't want the ale but he is told, no he is commanded to drink it. He is told to be sociable, to smile but the cold edge of suspicion prevents this from truly happening. He's too used to feeling the effects of flying fists, become adept at avoiding those as well as flailing angry feet. His last lot of bruises have only now just begun to fade. _

_He quickly realises why he's being nice to him all of a sudden, why suddenly his senses have deserted him and as he scrambles upright, how the rough wooden floor beneath his feet rises and dips alarmingly. _

_Barely heard pleas and promises are issued from almost numb lips as hands grip his upper arms and steer him away._

"_I promise to behave…I will be good...please…" but they fall upon deaf ears. It's always the same, the words never have any effect but every time he pleads with them. He hopes that one day someone will listen but they never do. It always ends the same._

_The clink of coins being exchanged._

_Face down on a thin flea ridden mattress, a hand at the back of his neck…pain…indescribable white hot pain. Whispered curses. Endearments meant to flatter but only serve to humiliate. Fingers digging into unwelcome places. It is always the same. And there is blood, there is always blood. _

_A slap on the arse and thanks for services rendered._

_Another hand heavy on his shoulder. _

_No more, not this time._

"Hal!" It has the same effect as a bucket of ice water to his senses and in that moment Hal is brutally awake.

He has his hands around the throat of a man he doesn't recognise and who stares at him with wide eyed fright. Hal blinks and slowly he turns his head towards the sharply spoken voice and sees Louis standing beside him, a hand on one of his wrists. He lets go of his quarry suddenly and watches as he scuttles out. He lets out a ragged breath and slowly turns.

His bed is across the room, the linen kicked back and untidy. He doesn't remember leaving it; he doesn't remember even falling asleep. He looks back at Louis.

"What happened?" Louis asks him and Hal wipes a hand across his face and he pulls it away and sees the sweat that soaks the finger tips.

"I…" he begins and then closes his mouth and he shakes his head.

"Who was that?" he asks instead, indicating the person who has just scuttled out of his chamber as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.

"That was Frederick, one of Mr Wyndam's stewards." Louis explains. Hal turns and slowly retreats to his bed and sits on the side.

"He did have a message for you but you were…sleeping." Hal looks at him but doesn't say anything more.

"He knocked on the door and upon hearing no response, he entered. You were sleeping, a little…restless perhaps but asleep. He tried to wake you and well…you reacted…you dove from your bed with eyes as black as hell and fangs visible and pinned him across the room by his throat. He had no time to retaliate." Hal looks away and his expression is bleak.

"I don't remember…" Fragments of the dream are already melting like snow. He takes a deep breath.

"You scared the daylights out of him…are you alright?"

"I shall be down presently. Leave me." his tone is abrupt and Louis doesn't push the issue or demand further information as he takes his leave.

* * *

A while later Hal descends the stairs. He is still out of sorts and slightly on edge as he makes his descent. The house is busy. As he reaches the ground floor he sees the variety of people waiting by the stair case. They lift their faces and regard Hal curiously but he doesn't acknowledge them or speak. He reaches the bottom of the staircase as a door opens and he sees Wyndam emerge, in conversation with yet another person Hal doesn't recognise. At the same time the front door opens admitting a rush of rain cooled wind inside. Hal turns towards it and before he can change his mind, he disappears into the night.

The rain has thankfully stopped as he merges into the dusk. The air is blessedly cool after the past few days of summer heat. He looks briefly skywards and there seems to be an absence of any threatening rain clouds. It cheers him slightly. He has to agree with Maria, the night wouldn't have as much potential if it was still raining, considering he is hungry and in the mood to play.

The growing darkness cloaks him and he merges silently into the shadows. His eyes take in his surroundings as he heads further into the depths of the town. He listens and can hear the faint patter of hearts beating. If he concentrates with special care then he is able to hear whispers of conversation, of laughter and of more. He heads along deserted alleys and ignores the rank odours of humanity and its detritus. That isn't what is important right now. Ahead of him he sees the welcoming glow of a tavern and softly he smiles. This is what is important.

* * *

He finds a quiet corner with his ale. He can see everyone in this cramped room. It's busy and his eyes scan the variety of faces. No one pays him any attention. He reaches for his cup and lifts it. He takes an experimental sip and tries not to grimace too much at its sour taste. He feels his stomach cramp and as he lowers his cup to the rough-hewn trestle, he runs his tongue along his lower lip to catch any errant drops.

It's then that he sees her.

He catches sight of her moving between the tables, collecting empty cups and goblets as well as delivering fresh ones. She's really quite eye catching, clad in a gown of dark blue material, it complements her pale skin and as she draws closer to him, he realises that it matches her eyes. Her uncovered hair is blue black in colour and it makes for a pleasing combination. He watches as she clears the trestle that he occupies and he is almost transfixed by her. She's beautiful and he watches the smile that slowly blossoms across her face as she catches him watching her. His answering smile is equally slow and all knowing. He takes another sip of his ale and prepares to wait.

He leaves some time later but he's careful not to be the last one to leave. He doesn't want to be remembered even in a town of this size. He quits the building and dips back into the shadows as he prepares to wait.

He sees her emerge a short while later, a coarse shawl shielding her dress from the elements. He realises that perhaps this is the only half decent gown that she owns and therefore she takes care of it. He tries to imagine Maria in such an outfit and fails. Maria likes the finer things in life and that also includes jewels and fine clothing.

He buries himself further into shadows and watches as she walks past him. She's so close that if he were to reach out he would be able to touch her. His stomach cramps and anticipation fires through his veins. He's hungry and he contemplates attacking quickly, before she has a chance to realise what is happening, before she can open her mouth to scream. It would not be the first time. But no. He turns his head slightly as she walks by and he watches her. His head dips slightly to the side as he catches the faint scent of crushed roses. He's in the mood to play, to charm. He wonders whether she'll be receptive to such a mood.

"I know you are there." her voice is quiet in the stillness and Hal freezes momentarily. He watches as she pauses and then turns in his direction. She is looking in his direction. He remains still, barely daring to breathe.

"You can come out of hiding. I won't bite." There's a hint of amusement in her voice and despite it, Hal smiles to himself. He steps out into the dim light.

"You won't bite? Well that's certainly reassuring." he tells her as he slowly walks towards her. She watches him, a slight smile curving her full mouth.

"I noticed you in the tavern this evening and I had a feeling that you would not be far away." she tells him. He cocks an eyebrow.

"Confident too." he adds on. He watches her smile briefly widen.

"Maybe but I sensed your curiosity in there. Escort me back to my lodgings? It isn't far." Hal regards her.

"I'm a stranger to you…you don't know me at all."

"Are you a gentleman? Perhaps not an _actual_ gentleman but you seem like a gentle…man." Hal barely refrains from rolling his eyes.

"Mistress…"

"Isabel…"

"I beg your pardon?" Once more she smiles.

"My name _sir_ is Isabel. And you are?" His eyes scan her face.

"Henry." he answers.

"Please to make your acquaintance Henry…now we are no longer strangers." She holds out a hand and after a second he takes it. Her skin is pleasantly warm and as he touches her wrist he can feel the steady pump of blood just beneath. He draws her up against him and she comes quite willingly. She shows no fear. He looks into her eyes and sees the flare of interest there instead.

* * *

He pushes her up against the wall and a soft growl rumbles in his chest as he feels her hands conduct their bold explorations. She gave off an aura of sweetness earlier but she's a tavern wench with the morals to match it would seem. He isn't shocked, had guessed she would be as such and a ragged sigh escapes from him as those still bold hands of hers find what they are looking for and he pulls up her skirts, his own hands and fingers engaging in their own quest. Her mouth is hot against the side of his neck and she gives a little gasp as he pushes her legs wider apart and pushes his way inside of her. She's hot and already very wet and it is what he needs, what he has been craving. Her arms slide around his neck as he lifts her slightly and he feels her fingers dig into his shoulders, her little sighs of pleasure echoing in his ear. She is no shy virgin.

They're hidden at the back of the tavern, hidden in the shadowed recesses. It reeks of stale ale and piss but neither of them takes any notice. Neither of them cares.

He feels that darker side of him lurking. He's just on the edge and Hal smiles to himself as he embraces him. He looks at her, the girl, whose name he has already forgotten. Her eyes are closed, her mouth slack. With one slightly trembling hand he touches the side of her face and feels the soft skin beneath rough fingertips. Her eyes slide open and she regards him with mild curiosity before he turns her head to the side. He exposes the length of pale creamy skin, envisioning the blood that flows beneath it.

He times it just right.

His eyes blacken and his fangs erupt and her initial scream subsides in a messy wet gurgle as he rips into the soft skin at the side of her neck. Her hot blood rushes and spurts down his throat as her body convulses around his own. The strength of her release makes him gasp but it does not make him stop. He's beyond stopping.

He's panting hard as he releases his hold on her and she slides bonelessly to the ground at his feet. He straightens his clothing and then wipes at his mouth, pulling his fingers away to see her blood staining them. He watches how she rolls slowly forwards into a puddle, the mud and the water oozes into the fabric of her gown as her blood pools outwards. He watches her become pale in death before he emerges from his hiding place. He looks around.

He feels somewhat calmer now; the thrill that fresh blood brings rolling through his veins, suffusing him somewhat. He looks up to the sky as he feels fresh drops of rain begin to fall. He closes his eyes as it quickly becomes a downpour and is accompanied by a low heavy roll of thunder. He looks back to the girl and then to his surroundings. He steps back, startled as lightning illuminates everything around him to a brief vivid brightness. The streets are narrow, close together and dense. He waits and he listens and he looks but nothing seems to move, his surroundings remain silent despite the weather's protestations.

Hal Yorke disappears back into the shadows.

* * *

The sudden white hot flash of lightning makes Maria start in her chair. Wyndam glances up from his documents and in her direction. She's reading by candle light but he hasn't failed to notice the nervous looks she sends towards the window. It would seem she has a weak spot and it surprises him slightly that it's the storm erupting outside. For now the only sounds to be heard are the sounds of the tempest erupting outside of said window.

"Has Hal returned yet?" he enquires, returning his attention to the parchment open on the desk in front of him. He jams the quill into the inkpot by his arm and scrawls a response to the missive before he pushes it to one side and retrieves another.

"He has gone out tonight? In this?" Maria breathes and Wyndam looks back at her.

"Yes, several hours since. I sent Frederick to him earlier, with a message that I wished to speak with him and both he and Louis reported he'd been sleeping and that he was…restless." he pauses as Maria looks at him.

"Another of his dreams…and so soon in the evening." she murmurs.

"Fortunately Louis managed to rouse him before any real harm was done but he gave Frederick quite the shock."

"I can imagine…"Maria sighs, closing her ignored book.

"We're closer to England now and we know he doesn't want to return there and he still will not tell us why." she continues.

"I'm becoming more convinced that it has to do with his human life." Wyndam picks up another sheet of parchment on his desk.

"I had one of my informants do some investigation…very preliminary work you understand…"

"And what has he found out?"

"Hal's name is indeed Henry Yorke and also that he was born at an establishment by the name of The Yorke Inn, in London at around the end of the last century. His parentage is unknown…"

"The Yorke Inn…it sounds very grand…" Maria watches as Wyndam shakes his head.

"It gives off an illusion of grandeur but if I mention Southwark and the fact that his parentage is unknown…" his words fade away.

"He's a bastard…his mother was a whore perhaps?" Her expression turns thoughtful.

"And that the Yorke Inn is in fact a brothel."

"According to my informant, the proprietor is a fellow by the name of Edmund Yorke who aspires to noble origins if you follow my meaning…" he watches as Maria rolls her eyes.

"He fought at Bosworth, made a small fortune and headed to London…his business at the tavern is said to be…prosperous…"

"Where there are whores there is always gold I suppose…"Maria mutters and Wyndam sends her a chiding look. She widens her eyes with mock innocence and then shrugs narrow shoulders. Wyndam's eyes gleam with the faint traces of a smile.

"What are you going to do next?" she asks. Wyndam sighs.

"Investigate this Yorke Inn and see it for myself. If I can see it for myself, I may get an idea of why Hal is so repulsed by the idea of returning to England. And if I can do that…"

"You may succeed in vanquishing any ghosts that hold young Hal back from his soul." Maria continues. Wyndam nods.

"We may hope." A faint tap on the door interrupts their conversation and after a moment the door opens and they both watch Frederick enter. He bears a large silver oval shaped platter that holds a decanter and two goblets.

"I thought that you and the mistress would welcome some refreshments sir…" Frederick pauses by the desk and places it onto an uncluttered corner. Maria watches him, hears how hoarse his voice is and as he turns, she sees the dark purple bruises that circle his neck. He bows his head to her and then leaves. Maria turns to Wyndam.

"Hal did that?" she breathes and wonders why she's so surprised.

"Hal did that." Wyndam confirms.

* * *

The sky is a faint greyish pink as Hal makes his way through the streets and back to Wyndam's residence. The rain has stopped and the air is pleasantly cool against his skin. Fatigue tugs at him and he think of his room and the possibility of some deep uninterrupted sleep. He wonders whether it will be possible or will Wyndam decree that today is the day that they should depart for the shores of his home country. He frowns. He wonders whether he's noticed his absence, whether he is angry that he didn't keep their appointment. He will have noticed and as for the rest of it? He cares not what he thinks.

He pushes the door open and pops his head around. He listens and hears nothing. He slides inside and closes the door behind him. He pauses and once more he listens. Upon hearing nothing, he turns and heads for the staircase.

"Hal." He freezes and turns towards Wyndam's voice. He stands in the doorway of the room he saw him in the evening before but this time he is alone. Slowly Hal straightens and waits for the castigation that is surely to follow. Instead Wyndam regards him.

"You are well Hal?" he asks. Hal stares back at him, more than a little bit surprised.

"I… am." he confirms. Wyndam just nods.

"You need sleep young man. Be ready at noon, I must speak with you then." he turns and Hal frowns.

"Is that all?" he blurts out and Wyndam turns back around.

"Were you expecting something else? Go and get some rest…we shall discuss our business later." Hal watches as he turns and heads back into his room, closing the door behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

**With many thanks for the lovely reviews :) This chapter includes flashbacks and again it is all supposition and make believe. All errors are my own and are unintentional. Love to hear your thoughts. **

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen:**

"_Get up! Hal for God's sake you must get up. If you don't then you'll never leave here!" _

Hal's eyes spring open as her voice echoes through his head and for a brief chilling moment he thinks he's back there again. He waits and he listens but it's quiet. He slowly rolls onto his back as a knock sounds on his door. He bids his visitor enter as he begins to sit up. His head still feels a little bit cloudy, he'd slept soundly upon his return and the fact that he has woken in his bed and not on the floor or with his hands around an unsuspecting victim's throat bodes well too. He turns his head as his door squeaks open and he frowns when he sees Maria enter.

"Ah…you're awake…" she flashes a smile at him.

"And in my room…" he reminds her and she rolls her eyes.

"I can't imagine why you're so offended about that, there's nothing of you that I haven't already seen before."

Hal sighs roughly. "At my invitation previously which this is not. What do you want?"

She glares at him with narrowed eyes.

"I had forgotten how…contrary you can be first thing in the morning or in this case, almost noon." She snips back and his eyes widen.

"I am supposed to meeting with Wyndam at noon, am I late?" He shuffles to the side of his bed and his eyes seek out his clothing which is draped across a chair across from him. Maria turns, sees them and goes to them. She picks them up and brings them to him, dropping them down beside him on the mattress.

"He's been busy this morning so I do not think he will mind if you are a little bit late but no…not late yet."

"But I will be. Maria, please state your business or be on your way." He stands up but is careful to keep the sheet around his waist. The look he flicks her way is heavy with irritation.

"I saw Frederick last night…" she begins delicately and Hal's answering frown is distracted as he struggles into his clothing.

"Who?"

"Wyndam's steward…the chap you attempted to strangle yesterday," She clarifies and she watches as he slowly straightens.

"What of him?" He asks.

"You were in the midst of another dream Hal," She reminds him. He looks away and instead goes to his travelling chest where he extracts a clean white chemise which he shrugs on.

"I already told Louis that I don't remember," He begins.

"You may be able to pull the wool over his eyes and you may be able to keep Wyndam at arm's length with your excuses but I've known you a little bit longer, allow me to have just a little bit more intelligence," She interrupts and he looks at her, goes absolutely still.

"Your point being?" He asks, his voice becoming like ice. Maria sighs and drops onto the mattress; she arranges the skirts of her gown around her legs.

"My point _being_…these nightmares that you suffer from are violent and they seem to be becoming more frequent the closer we get to England's shores." She watches him.

"They're connected to your human life aren't they?" Her voice is gentle. Hal stares at her and for a moment he's unable to think or even breathe.

"I've already told you, I do not remember."

"I think you do and for whatever reason, fear or shame, you do not want to share them with us." Her expression becomes steadfast. "You think we will judge you, blame you perhaps…"

"_Blame_ me?" he retorts, his tone turning sharp.

Maria gets to her feet.

"Never mind, perhaps I have overstepped my boundaries. If either myself or Edgar can help you with whatever troubles you, come talk to us."

She goes to leave the room but Hal darts into her way and wraps his hands around her upper arms.

"What do you know?" he hisses at her and she sees how his eyes darken.

"Nothing Hal…I know nothing now please, unhand me, you are being most ungentlemanly."

Hal stares at her for a moment longer. Maria sighs.

"Hal…I shall not ask you again. Let go of me," She enunciates and eventually he does just that. She moves around him and leaves.

* * *

Hal is aware that he is late for their appointment as he taps on the heavy wooden door and waits for admittance. He straightens the sleeves of his doublet and he wonders what Wyndam could want with him. He hears footsteps on the other side of the door and unconsciously straightens as eventually the door opens. Wyndam stands on the other side.

"Hal…please come in." There is no mention of his lateness and Hal blinks but he enters anyway. It's then that he sees the second man seated in a chair across from Wyndam's laden desk.

He experiences a strange feeling of déjà vu. The man slowly gets to his feet. He's tall; spare looking with fair hair, bright blue eyes and a neatly trimmed beard. He regards Hal with a keenness that sends warning prickles down his spine.

"Take a seat," Wyndam invites and indicates the second empty chair. Hal approaches it and sits down. He keeps the visitor in the corner of his eye as he turns his attention to his patron.

"Well…you're probably wondering why I've requested this meeting with you considering we've spent the last few days travelling together."

"The thought has crossed my mind." Hal answers cautiously. Wyndam regards him and a very slight smile tilts the corners of his mouth.

"First of all, weather conditions at this moment in time do not favour a trip across the sea to England for perhaps the next couple of days or so which may or may not please you in itself Hal but as you can imagine it is of great inconvenience to me. The longer I am away from my home then the greater the business that needs my attention becomes." He indicates the books and parchments that already cover the surface of his desk. "As if my work isn't busy enough…" he glances at their visitor with that same tight smile before he turns his attention back to Hal.

"So…rather than wait until we arrived in England to begin your…book learning and education I thought, why not now… Why not begin today…so Hal I would like you to meet Bartholomew West. He shall be your tutor." he indicates their visitor. Hal turns his head and regards him. Bartholomew's skin is white pale and it makes his eyes stand out more in depth of colour.

"Mr Yorke…pleased to make your acquaintance." the man replies and Hal just nods.

"Mr West is the best at what he does and you will benefit from his expertise. I've set aside the room next door where over time, your writing and reading skills especially will be vastly improved."

"With respect sir, I am not a child." Hal answers, once he's torn his eyes from Bartholomew's face.

"I know that but to get ahead in this world Hal means that you must improve in every way. I know you've had some basic schooling here and there but imagine being able to pick up a book, any book and being able to read the text within with ease and complete understanding. Letter writing is in itself an art form…wouldn't you like to learn how to do that?" Wyndam sits forward and he regards Hal sharply.

"You will thank me for it one day."

* * *

The room adjoins Wyndam's office and is of medium size. One wall is lined with a variety of books; Hal doesn't think that he's seen so many before. He approaches them, deliberately ignoring the desk that has been set up across from it. He pauses and examines the tomes, his hands behind his back.

Bartholomew watches him. To all outward purposes the younger vampire exudes an aura of calmness but he isn't fooled. Hal's spine is stiff and his shoulders are squared and he ignored the desk set up for him quite purposely. He waits a moment.

"He's right you know." Bartholomew's voice is quiet but Hal hears him clearly.

"Who is…and about what?" His answering tone is deliberately dismissive.

"Mr Wyndam and your education," Bartholomew answers and when nothing more is forthcoming, Hal slowly turns to look at him.

"So you say."

The tutor smiles.

"I saw the frown on your face, the expression on your face at his pronouncement. You think that you're too old for _this_, that you've missed your opportunity and that you just want to exist in your new world, to create fear and mayhem and shed blood, oceans upon oceans of blood."

Hal doesn't answer as he watches him slowly approach him.

"You must have more than just a shred of intelligence Hal; otherwise Mr Wyndam wouldn't have summoned me here in the first place. Perhaps you could be difficult and waste my time but something tells me you won't do that. Why don't we take a seat and we can talk about what you already know and maybe we can improve on what needs to be improved upon?" he suggests, indicating the desk and chair with the sweep of one hand. Hal regards it and then looks to him once again.

He lowers himself down behind the desk with a feeling of trepidation. His eyes take everything in.

"Hal, do not worry, you will not be judged, least of all by me," Bartholomew reassures him calmly and Hal looks up at him across the desk. "I remember being in your shoes, though in my case I had no shoes to wear. Mr Wyndam was the one who gave me the same opportunity. I could not read or write at all but in time and with a lot of patience he helped me, taught me and enabled me to go further and teach others in the same situation." He smiles very slightly and it succeeds in warming his startlingly blue eyes.

"How long ago was that?" Hal enquires.

"A long time ago, perhaps two centuries, I don't really remember. When you're a vampire you tend to realise that the days blend into one another and that time doesn't really hold the same appeal as it used to any more. One day perhaps you'll understand for yourself."

"I don't appreciate being patronised." Hal responds icily and Bartholomew regards him calmly.

"Mr Wyndam did say you were a prickly fellow to get to know…I meant no insult Hal…may I call you Hal?" he waits. The younger vampire doesn't respond.

"Mr Wyndam also tells me that you are able to read and write passably…but that it needs improvement…Are you willing to tell me how this came about?" Hal looks at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Did you go to school at all in England?" Bartholomew asks. Hal stares at him. After a moment he shakes his head.

"Then how?"

Hal drops his gaze and stares at a spot on the desk.

"Lizzie taught me." he whispers.

"And who is Lizzie?" Hal glances back up at him and he looks…startled.

"She was…someone…important. I would rather not talk about her if you don't mind." His voice is barely above a whisper, his eyes wide as if horrified at giving away a slice of his former life to someone he does not know.

He can hear her voice in his head as if he had just heard it yesterday, can feel her arm around him, holding him close against her as she traces the letters in the sandy dirt.

"_This is your name Hal…H…A…L, see how they go together? Your proper name is Henry but I think Hal suits you more."_ _He turns his head and he smiles into her eyes. _

_Those eyes are as blue as the summer sky. He is six years old. Lizzie smiles at him and squeezes him to her for a brief moment before she straightens up and disappears in a swish of skirts and perfume._

Hal blinks; he looks up at Bartholomew and sees the mild frown upon his face.

"I'm…sorry." he whispers and he takes a deep breath and he closes his eyes. A moment or two pass before they open again and Bartholomew West sees a different person when those eyes fix upon his face once again.

"If we may begin?"

* * *

Wyndam stands in the doorway and watches Bartholomew pack away papers and books for a moment. He's the only occupant in the room.

"How was our Mr Yorke?" he asks and Bartholomew turns his head and glances at him over his shoulder.

"You were not mistaken; he certainly is a prickly fellow isn't he?"

Wyndam walks further into the room.

"I did warn you. How did it go?"

"Well I think. He does indeed write and read passably but not well enough to get by, I think a lot of it is down to guesswork, especially the reading." He pauses and looks to Wyndam again.

"And most interestingly since he confessed to having no formal schooling at all prior to his recruitment. He says he was taught by someone by the name of Lizzie. He would not say more after that, rather he deliberately changed the subject." He frowns. "But she was important to him."

"Was?"

Bartholomew nods.

"Yes, _was_…I'm under the impression that the mysterious Lizzie is dead."

* * *

Hal scrubs ink from his fingers and he frowns as he does it. He hadn't meant to mention Lizzie. She's kept firmly locked away and he does not talk about her to anyone, not to Maria and certainly not to Wyndam. She's not up for public discussion and he wonders whether Bartholomew West will report his discovery to him. He frowns even harder as the knot in his throat grows and tightens. His new tutor didn't push the matter further and respected his request not to talk about her but he isn't stupid, he'll be curious and so will Edgar Wyndam. Edgar Wyndam and his extensive network of informants. He stops scrubbing and stares out of the window. The low cloud from yesterday still hangs over the town like a shroud. Lizzie is dead and the name is common enough. He huffs out a loud sigh and moves away from the bowl of water, drying his hands on the linen square beside it. As he turns he sees his travelling chest at the bottom of his bed and he goes to it and opens it.

He sorts through its contents. It is mostly clothing but at the bottom and carefully hidden is what he's looking for. He carefully lifts the square of rough dark cloth from its hiding place. He gets to his feet and sits on the side of his bed. He places it on his lap and he looks down at it for a moment or two before he picks it up again and unfastens the crude bindings that hold it together. Once that is done then he unwraps it and he looks down at what it reveals.

_He observes her as she crouches down by his feet and reaches beneath the bed. She hauls out a rough looking wooden box and opens it. He watches as she sorts through the meagre belongings, searching for something and eventually she finds what it is she is looking for. She straightens up and looks at him._

"_You need to take this, for protection." She pushes it into his hands and as he looks down at it, his eyes widen._

"_For protection Hal, do not be afraid to use it if you have to." She looks down at the knife that she's just given to him. "The blade is sharp but I doubt it will do any true harm, depending on where you stick it of course. Just the sight of it will scare away any troublemakers." She carefully places a hand over his, over the weapon. _

"_It belongs to you now." she tells him._

Hal stares at the knife. He has no idea where Lizzie had got the weapon from and he hadn't asked at the time. The handle is white bone, the blade long and silver. He hasn't used it in a very long time; it has spent its existence in his travelling chest, ignored up until now. He picks it up and holds it in his hand and he remembers the last time that he used it.

_He stands in the doorway of the small room and ignores the traitorous surge of fear. His entire body is telling him to turn away and run, to get out of there as fast as possible. He sees him standing beside the poor excuse of a bed, just a mattress really. He watches as he turns and looks at him, smiles at him. Hal takes a slow, deliberate step into the room._

_Edmund had told him that his special guest was here, that he mustn't tarry. He still remembers feeling his hand clamp tightly around his upper arm, that hard deliberate squeeze. He expected him to show some kind of emotion, fear perhaps or even pain. He had just looked at him, looked straight through him and then kept on walking. _

_Up the stairs to this room. _

_He thinks of all of the years he has spent here, of being beaten and abused. He thinks of all the names that have been shrieked at him. He stays still as he watches the man slowly walk towards him and it occurs to him that he doesn't even know his name, his generous benefactor, his special guest. He makes himself stand still, to not back away._

_The man touches him, a single grimy finger that traces along his cheekbone, still painful from that last beating he suffered and it takes all of his strength not to cringe back away as that finger slides down to his chin and to his bottom lip. The man draws him close in a parody of a lover's embrace. Hal swallows slowly, deliberately and with one hand he slowly reaches behind him and extracts the blade from the back of his breeches, made warm from the contact with his skin._

_He holds the knife in his hand with easy familiarity and all the while he looks at the man, into his rheumy aged eyes. He can smell the acrid unwashed scent of him. His fingers curl around the knife's hilt and he tests the weight of it hidden behind his back. _

_It's time for him to assume control, it has to begin now. _

_The man's hand slides down the side of Hal's neck, down to his shoulder. Hal sees the desire in his expression, the want. It will not last for long, this wooing. Any moment now it will be replaced by something more savage, more brutal. His heart thunders in his chest, his breathing becomes more rapid. Fear threatens to engulf him. _

_The man begins to murmur in his thin whispery voice and Hal's reaction is instantaneous._

* * *

"I haven't seen that before."

Hal starts violently and the knife clatters to the ground. He gets to his feet but Maria is there in an instant and she's picking it up off the floor and she holds it, testing its weight in the palm of one hand. She looks up at him. Her smile quickly fades.

"Hal… You are as pale as a ghost."

"That's mine. I want it back." he tells her and without waiting, he all but snatches it out of her hand. He retrieves the cloth and hurriedly re-wraps the weapon back into it. He goes to his chest and then pauses. He raises his eyes and he looks at her.

"The door was closed Maria." he reminds her.

"I thought you may be sleeping again…I haven't seen you all day." she shrugs and watches as he opens his travelling chest and replaces the weapon inside of it. He closes it and secures it. He straightens up and once more he looks at her.

"As you saw, I wasn't. What do you want?" he demands. She frowns.

"There is no need to be so testy with me young man. Wyndam has a social…thing this evening, some fusty Old One meeting that will be indeterminable and dull and I'm bored."

"So?"

"I would like to go out this evening. I would also like for you to accompany me," She replies.

"And what would we do?" he enquires, his equilibrium quickly returning. Maria smiles at him.

"I'm in the mood for mischief Hal. Aren't you?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Many thanks to those who continue to read and leave reviews, always very much appreciated. There is mischief in this chapter and there will be more in the following one. Wyndam begins to find out why Hal killed his sire. My interpretation as to what makes an Old One an Old One is also just that, an interpretation. **

** All errors are my own and unintentional. Please feed the review demon, thanks. **

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen:**

"Mischief?"

Hal watches Maria smile and it's a familiar, knowing smile.

"Yes, _mischief_ and for that I need a suitable companion which is why I am here. Please don't say no. You will regret it if you do."

Hal gives pause and her smile widens.

"Then how could I possibly refuse? By the look in your eye it would seem that you have a destination in mind." Hal watches her and he sees the gleam in her green eyes.

"You may be right. I require you to be ready to depart in about an hour's time. Can you be ready?" Hal nods, watching as her eyes skim the length of his body.

"Excellent. One hour Hal and wear something…splendid."

He watches her all but skip out of his room and he frowns.

"Splendid?" he mutters to himself.

* * *

He waits for her in the salon and turns when he hears the door open and he sees Wyndam enter. He looks severe and unforgiving in black and Hal idly wonders whether he possesses clothing in another colour as black is all that he seems to wear. He's like a crow in an exotic aviary.

"You are escorting Maria this evening I gather?" Wyndam asks. He takes in Hal's attire. He wears a doublet of slate grey with finer silvery accessories. He looks impressive. Hal inclines his head.

"I was instructed to be ready within the hour. Yet I am here and she is not," He replies and the faintest of smiles crosses Wyndam's face.

"Oh she will appear when she is good and ready and not a moment before." he advises him. Both of them lift their heads when they hear movement.

"Do you know where we are going?" Hal enquires and Wyndam sighs and shakes his head.

"It could be anywhere. Be thankful you are not visiting where I am expected to attend." he warns in a low, suddenly tired voice and he frowns as he pulls on a pair of black leather gloves. At the same time there is a quiet tap on the door. Wyndam turns and sees Frederick appear. He pauses just on the inside and the look he sends Hal is quick and slightly nervous.

"Your carriage awaits you sir." he tells him in a quiet voice. Wyndam nods in acknowledgement.

"You could always cancel your meeting and join us?" Hal suggests and Wyndam's eyes hold onto the younger vampire's face for a moment or two and Hal gets the impression that he seems to be contemplating the invitation.

"A tempting offer Mr Yorke but regrettably I must decline. The tiresome nature of vampire politics being what they are, I must attend," He sighs.

"You are Mr Snow's right hand man sir; surely they must attend to you?" Hal answers and once more a faint smile warms the usually austere face of Edgar Wyndam.

"Not in this case Hal. Sometimes I must act in a diplomatic role; I listen to grievances, I smooth out any wrinkles before they have the potential to become damaging. I also pay court to others of a similar age to Mr Snow, it keeps the channels of communication smooth and less…complicated. It may be tiresome but it is also necessary." he tells him. His head then turns as the door opens wider and both of them watch as Maria makes her entrance.

She wears a gown of deep blood red and fairly steals the breath from both vampires' lungs.

"Hal…you are on time, wonderful!" she exclaims and then her eyes fall upon Wyndam. She glides over to him and she stands in front of him. She makes a show of adjusting the already perfect shoulders of his doublet, brushing the material before taking a half step backwards, eyeing him with approval "and Edgar, dashing as always. Be sure to send my regards to Xavier and please tell him that I'm truly sorry we were not able to meet this time." Her eyes sparkle and a smile dimples her cheeks.

Wyndam smiles softly in response "Liar…but I shall pass on your greetings all the same," He then turns his attention back to Hal. "Enjoy your evening's entertainment." he wishes.

They both watch him take his leave.

It is a chilly evening; a fine mist curls through the town, wrapping alleys, streets, buildings and pedestrians within its protective veil. Hal pauses on the street and waits for Maria to join him. She wears a warm dark cloak over her dress, its magnificence hidden from immediate view. Hal had glimpsed rubies winking at her throat earlier when she'd made her entrance. They'd glowed darkly against her pale skin like…well like droplets of blood he supposes. He looks at her. The hood of the cloak is up and partially veils her face. She looks at him and she smiles slowly and he sees the glitter of devilment in her eyes.

"Are you going to share what you have in mind for this evening?" The smile grows wider.

"Of course young Hal but all in good time. We must make haste." she slides a gloved hand through the crook of his elbow and they begin to walk, fading into the night.

* * *

Wyndam sighs quietly. Why had he agreed to attend this evening? He has matters that need his attention, Hal's continuing education to discuss and plan with Bartholomew and instead here he is listening to the voices droning indeterminably around him. He agreed to attend because he was required to. It would be seen as an insult otherwise and Snow does not like dissent within the order. So while his wish is to remain cloistered, his directive is to see and be seen.

He has been greeted by Xavier and his cohorts with the greatest of respect. He turns his head slightly and regards his host. Xavier is two hundred years his senior but as yet he hasn't been afforded the Old One status. It isn't a privilege automatically conferred due to age. If that was the case then there would be many more of them in existence. It is Snow's version of a reward system, similar to a king dispensing titles to his subjects. Xavier is useful but Snow hasn't conferred anything upon him and most likely will not. He's just an overblown civil servant, an extra pair of eyes to report back to the hierarchy and as a result he lives comfortably and has control over most of the vampire activity in this town but Wyndam knows how Snow's mind can change like the weather and everything could change by the next sunset. Xavier does not possess the sharp cold intellect or the killer instinct that would or could afford him the revered status of Old One.

It's a great honour nevertheless for him to host an Old One in his abode but unfortunately Wyndam does not feel honoured. Instead Edgar Wyndam feels rather bored. His gaze drops to the blood in the goblet set carefully before him by one of Xavier's stewards. With the tip of one long finger he pushes it slowly and carefully away and as he does so he lifts his gaze to the vampires present. For once none of them are watching his every move. He quietly sighs and leans back in his seat and he lets his attention wander. The blood is fatty and dull; it does not spark his attention or cause him to request more. He sees their pale faces and he knows that each one present this evening is wondering if he will be the one that he will notice, report back favourably to Snow and hope for promotion. He wonders whether any of them have heard of Hal Yorke. He wonders whether he should mention him. He himself may not have heard of the fellow prior to his introduction but it doesn't mean that nobody else has not.

Wyndam lifts his head slightly as the doors open and he watches a line of serving girls enter the room, each carrying trays holding more decanters and fresh goblets. He watches them as they approach each trestle and Wyndam regards them curiously. He wonders whether they know what they are serving. He glances briefly at Xavier. They are probably being paid very well not to know or to care. He sees one of them approach the head table and she comes to him first. She's a pretty thing, with hair as red as an autumn leaf. She keeps her eyes respectfully low as she places the goblet in front of him and pours some of the viscous red liquid inside. Wyndam continues to watch her and she's well aware of his attention judging by the pink flags of colour staining her cheeks. She does not look at him, she has been instructed not to. At the last moment she lifts her head slightly and their eyes meet. There is a flash of boldness there which is swiftly extinguished but in that moment his interest is piqued. He wonders who she is and more to the point, how she will taste.

"It is a great honour to have you back to our town my Lord Wyndam," Xavier's tone is suitably obsequious and just like that Wyndam snaps back to attention. He turns to him, seated to his right. He offers the faintest of smiles.

"Thank you but it is for a short visit Xavier, just passing through and waiting for a favourable wind to allow a swift return to England," He answers but out of the corner of his eye he continues to watch the serving girl. He's feeling bored and he has a feeling she might help relieve that boredom.

"Rumour has it you were summoned to attend Mr Snow…" Wyndam watches him for a moment, seeing the naked speculation in his pale green eyes. He allows a moment to pass.

"I was. I'm sure you've _also_ heard the rumour that I was to collect a new protégé. You may have heard of him perhaps. Apparently he has quite the reputation. His name is Hal Yorke." He sees how Xavier frowns.

"The name is not familiar I must admit," he answers.

"Really? He was a recruit of Alexei's. He killed him and that was what caught the attention of Snow." This does get a reaction and Wyndam watches his eyes go round with shock.

"Killed him? Why?" Wyndam offers an elegant shrug.

"He will not say. He would not even mention it to William when he asked him and William and Alexei were friends." he informs him and he sees the pensive expression that crosses his face. Something prickles along the length of Wyndam's spine and he slowly straightens in his seat.

"This may be an unusual question my Lord so I pray you forgive me for asking it but is your Mr Yorke is young? Handsome?" He asks. Wyndam frowns.

"I suppose he has a somewhat…agreeable countenance…why?" He sees how Xavier casts a furtive look around before he leans closer to him.

"There have been _rumours_ abound for many, many years regarding Alexei and his…predilections. I am surprised you haven't heard them yourself," He whispers. Wyndam regards him, feeling the cold churn of suspicion that has begun to blossom in his stomach.

"Rumours?"

"Nothing has ever been proven my Lord, no one was willing to speak of it in public such was his reputation but it was suggested that his…_interests_ lay…not with the fairer sex if you understand my meaning…more so if they were…pretty and he was not particularly apologetic about it." Wyndam frowns as he understands.

He opens his mouth to reply but things are beginning to slot into place and tick over in his brain and he closes it instead.

"Alexei would not care to share secrets of such inclinations with me. Though truth be told it does not surprise me and perhaps you think William also shares these inclinations?" Xavier shrugs slowly, diplomatically but Wyndam sees his answer in his eyes. He leans back in his seat. These are not new rumours, he has heard nebulous whispers, had them vaguely hinted at but not embellished.

But given what he has so far gleaned about Hal's beginnings and remembering how…abrupt William had been to him upon their meeting, it is all beginning to come together and make sense. Alexei thought that he could control his understudy in this manner and discovered to his detriment that he could not.

Now he has a very good idea of why Hal ended his maker. He turns his head and his eyes slide across the myriad of faces present.

"The serving girl my Lord…" Xavier's voice floats to his attention once more. Wyndam looks back at him. "She's yours my Lord…whenever you wish to take possession of her…" Wyndam looks away once more. He doubts that he will need his assistance in the matter…

* * *

Hal pauses and takes in the events in the large ballroom. He turns his head and he looks at Maria and a frown wrinkles his brow.

"You brought me along to _this_?" he enquires and slowly he looks back at the occupants moving around on the floor space. His eyes widen marginally "I don't dance," He informs her.

She looks at him and she smiles.

"Can't or won't?" she teases. His head snaps around once more but he doesn't smile back in understanding.

"Choose one." he bites back and he returns his attention to the dance floor. He watches them go through the routines in time to the music being played by the group of musicians in the far corner of the room. It all looks measured and elegant and…difficult. He swallows.

"I could teach you if you would like me to. The steps aren't particularly difficult to grasp and you never know, you may actually like it." Maria's voice is low in his ear and he looks at her once more. The frown on his face tells her that he probably will not.

They move deeper into the ballroom and all of a sudden Hal's head is filled with the sound of throbbing heartbeats and the rhythmic whooshing of blood being forced through veins. There are so many people present; he's used to the silence of vampire companionship but _this..._ he takes a slow deep breath as his eyes scan the faces. There are so many of them. He glances at Maria and she tightens her grip on his arm.

"Control yourself Hal. I know you can do it," She murmurs.

"How can you? All of this on offer, it's almost too much…" he confesses in an equally low voice.

"Because I am much older than you are. Control is learned over a long period of time if you want to succeed at it. You are still relatively young and inexperienced. One day you will be able to control yourself without thinking. You are already more accomplished at it than most of your age." Her own eyes dart about with an experience borne of centuries of practice.

"How old are you?" he asks and she turns her head and regards him.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm curious…" he answers and she laughs and shakes her head.

"You are impertinent sir…" she returns her attention to the dancers.

"Are you as old as Mr Wyndam?"

"And how old do you think he is you insolent young pup?" Her tone is one of amusement and she looks at him one more time to see a lazy smile on his face. She regards him for a long moment.

"You already know his age. Well then...I…require you to fetch me a drink and not to be slow about it…" she smiles at him once more.

When he returns with two goblets of wine, she is nowhere to be seen.

* * *

It doesn't surprise Hal that Maria is dancing or that she is surrounded by eager, attentive suitors. They're all dazzled by her pale skin, those deep green eyes and that enchanting smile of hers. She is easily the most beautiful woman present. Hal takes a sip of his wine and does not take his eyes off her. She dances with abandon, her eyes sparkling with enjoyment and from the attention that she is receiving. Hal's gaze takes in the other dancers and he slowly begins to realise that not everyone is as enchanted with her as originally thought. He sees the look of irritation one of her suitors' companions sends her. She's a tall thin girl with dark hair and it would seem that she does not like that her partner is not paying her the requisite amount of attention. Hal sighs quietly. They are not supposed to draw attention to themselves, not in such a public arena. He discards his wine and takes a breath and plunges into the crowds of dancers. Instinct is telling him that trouble is not very far away.

The look the dark haired girl sends Maria is positively venomous as Maria smiles sweetly at her dance partner. Hal makes his way towards them, dodging around the other dancers. He lunges for Maria as all at once the two ladies face each other, all manners and pretence abandoned. He slides his arm around her waist and whisks her away as the tempo of the music picks up and the pair are swallowed up by the other dancers. Maria spins around, her eyes flashing angrily at the interruption. It melts away when she sees that it is Hal.

"I thought you did not dance?"

"I do not but neither do you rip out the throat of your rival in the middle of a busy dance in public view!" he reminds her sharply and sees her eyes narrow.

"You forget who you are talking to you…"

"If you call me an insolent young pup once more I shall be forced to pick you up and carry you out of here," He warns and he sees temper flare.

"You would not dare to do such a thing!" she hisses, attempting to pull herself out of his arms but he tightens his grip.

"Would I not? Would you like to find out?" he pauses and pulls her flush up against him and he sees the annoyance be replaced by surprise. "Just what were you trying to accomplish there?" he enquires.

"I had everything under control Hal. I liked him; I wanted to see whether he liked me too."

"Oh he wasn't the only one who liked you Maria, believe me." Hal snorts and she smiles.

"And his charming partner is in possession of an item of jewellery that I want, a particularly stunning diamond necklace; the jewels are as big as cherry stones."

Hal lifts a speculative eyebrow "And you hoped to antagonise her enough so that she'd hand it over to you, just like that?" He watches as she pouts.

"Not…exactly. The moment is now lost, thanks to you." She steps away from him and turns. He remains where he is as she threads her way across the ballroom floor. He sighs roughly and with a shake of his head follows her.

"Maria…" he sighs as he catches up with her. The moment his hand touches her shoulder then she turns and looks at him. "His companion was looking to cause trouble. She seemed the jealous type," He explains.

"I may be female Hal but I am quite able to look after myself."

"And if she had confronted you and made accusations then what would you have done?" he demands.

"I would not have harmed her…not in public." she answers and frowns as Hal snorts in disbelief.

"What?" she exclaims and her eyes widen as he takes her hand. "Where are we going?" she pulls her hand free and in the blink of an eye he is right in front of her and all she can think of is how green his eyes look in the light.

"We are leaving, I think you have outstayed your welcome," he retorts and then in a lower voice he murmurs "Do not turn around but we are being observed." He watches as her eyes go round. He reaches for her hand again and this time she does not resist as he retrieves her cloak and then drags her out of the building.

"What are you doing?" Maria enquires as they make their departure. She watches as he casts a quick look back over his shoulder before returning his attention to her face.

"It would seem that we have gained ourselves a pair of shadows." he tells her.

"Who?" She goes to turn her head but his arm slides around her waist and he pulls her close, he lowers his head close to hers.

"Guess," he whispers and surreptitiously Maria turns her head in the direction of the building. She sees the shadows and her eyes widen.

"Oh," she breathes and she smiles up at him. She stands on tiptoe and presses a kiss on his mouth. Her smile widens to a grin and she takes his hand.

"I have a feeling that this will be fun."


	16. Chapter 16

**Many thanks for the previous reviews. Apologise also for the gap in posting chapters. In this chapter, our deadly duo get up to the promised mischief, with an added partner in crime. All errors as always, are place names are made up ones. Would love to hear your thoughts :) **

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen.**

They walk for a short period of time before hearing the rumbling of carriage wheels. They pause and watch as the carriage halts beside them and Maria sees her dance companion of earlier look through the side opening.

"Are you going far?" he enquires.

Hal and Maria exchange a look.

"We are not far, thank you for your concern." Maria replies. The man in the carriage doesn't move, his eyes are fixed upon her face.

"We insist. The weather is quite awful and most unsuitable to walk anywhere in." he continues. Maria tilts her head to one side.

"We?" she wonders and it's then his companion appears beside him and Maria swallows down a smile as she recognises her from the dance floor.

"Please. I feel we got off on a misunderstanding earlier. Allow us to take you to your home and perhaps we can become better acquainted. My name is Lucille Deveraux and this is my husband Richard." Once more Hal and Maria exchange a look. The faintest of smiles tilts the corner of Hal's mouth before he returns his attention to her. He widens that smile and at the same time turns on the charm.

"Henry Yorke…and this is…" He realises that he does not know Maria's second name.

"His wife, I am Maria. We are pleased to make your acquaintance." she interrupts and once more she glances at Hal.

"And we should be delighted to accept your kind offer."

* * *

They take their seats opposite the couple. All at once the carriage lurches onwards and a moment of silence drops between them.

Hal regards the couple opposite them and he gets a glimpse of the diamond necklace that Maria had earlier expressed an interest in. It glitters in the faint light, the stones are large and impressive and he can understand why his companion covets them. His gaze flicks to the man seated opposite her. He's tall and very thin, there is not much in the way of flesh on his rather long bones but he can hear a very healthy heartbeat pumping away beneath that ribcage with satisfying regularity.

"You say you do not have far to travel?" Lucille enquires, breaking the silence. Maria shakes her head.

"No, not far, on la Rue Marguerite…you know of it?" She knows for a fact that she will have. It is the most exclusive part of the small town, situated at the top with the harbour at the bottom. It belongs to Edgar and has done for as long as she has known him. As the carriage rumbles towards their destination, she sees the spark of interest in the other woman's eyes.

"We do. It is a very beautiful part of town. You have lived there for long?" Lucille watches as Maria and Hal exchange a look. A smile passes between them before Maria returns her attention to her.

"Not long, it's my brother's house. I am his only living relative and as our parents are long since departed, he indulges me I'm afraid so when Henry and I married, he not only paid for a wonderful wedding, he also arranged for us to have a fabulous honeymoon. No expense spared." she smiles at Hal as she touches the ruby necklace at her throat.

"You are very fortunate." Richard intervenes. Hal looks at him but not before he notices how Lucille's gaze has fixed upon Maria's necklace.

She's calculating just exactly how much it is worth.

* * *

The carriage rumbles to a stop outside of the stable block behind the grand house. Hal and Maria have managed to persuade their new friends to visit, to share in some wine and to get to know one another a little more. They've been only a little too eager to accept.

"Hal…why don't you escort the carriage driver to the kitchen and I will show our guests to the salon?" Maria suggests once they have alighted from the carriage. Hal gives a little bow of acquiescence and waits for the carriage driver to join him. He regards him as he approaches. He's not as tall as his master and a little more fat pads his bones. Hal turns his head and catches Maria's eye and his smile is sly and knowing. He returns his attention to the driver who is regarding the horses and the carriage.

"Our stable lads can take care of those, not to worry," he assures him. "This way."

Lucille and Richard follow Maria into the house and without looking at them she knows that they are taking in their surroundings, calculating how much everything is worth, how long it will take them to acquire it all and planning their methods of execution. She smiles to herself. Hal will be taking care of the carriage driver. For him it will be mercifully quick. These two…well it all depends.

"You have a beautiful home." Lucille breathes and Maria pauses and looks at them. She smiles.

"Thank you, I am sure my brother will be honoured to hear your kind words. Shall we go to the salon?" One of Wyndam's stewards materialises. He glances at Maria's companions but wisely remains silent. She smiles at him.

"Wine please, Frederick," She requests. Frederick nods respectfully and fades away to do her bidding.

Hal enters the salon and Maria notices that his doublet is missing. He's still wiping the corners of his mouth and he has the satisfied air of one who has fed and fed well. He casts a smile at Lucille and Richard who are seated beside the fire, each holding a glass of wine.

"Frederick tells me that Edgar is home…" he informs Maria as he pours himself some wine. He watches as her eyes light up.

"Edgar?" Richard enquires. Hal regards him.

"Maria's brother, did we forget to say that he is travelling with us?" he looks back at Maria and he smiles. "Oh dear, my apologies."

* * *

He is in his study. He always seems to be here. He sees the pile of parchments on his desk, the ink pots and quills neatly lined up within reach and he sighs. His works is almost never done and once more he is reminded of his position within the hierarchy, the fact that he is always busy, always curious and forever learning. He gets very little time to be at one with just himself and his thoughts. There is always someone buzzing at his ear, begging for a moment's attention. If he is to be honest, alone with his thoughts is sometimes not the best place for him to be.

He left the gathering a little earlier than expected, citing work demands. The house is very quiet, both Hal and Maria out at their own soiree, wherever that may be. It hadn't been a complete disaster though. There had been Sophie…the serving girl with hair the colour of a newly turned autumn leaf. She was perhaps the only bright spot during an increasingly tiresome meeting and she tasted exactly as he imagined she would do. A faint smile lifts the corners of his mouth as he remembers just how she'd tasted. The hunt reminded him of times gone by when responsibility didn't rest so heavily upon his shoulders. He misses the abandon of which he once explored his nature but given free reign of it, perhaps it is better not to.

He lifts his head when hears footsteps and his hearing fixes upon the pulsing heartbeats. He closes the book that he has been ignoring and places it on the desk. He hears Maria's excited chatter and other voices that he does not recognise before they gradually fade away. He wonders whether to investigate but decides not to. It may be his house but this one time he will not intrude even though he is curious.

He stands by the window, his shoulder resting against the wall and sees nothing beyond the night shadows. Then there's a quiet rap on his door and as he turns, the door opens and Maria enters. Wyndam frowns.

"Are you busy?" she asks as she enters and closes the door behind her. He tilts his head to one side and straightens up.

"That would depend on your definition of the word." he indicates his desk and she waves a dismissive hand at it.

"I am sure that can wait until tomorrow. How was your gathering this evening?" she approaches his desk and she waits.

"As it usually is, deathly dull but they try I suppose. Why do you ask?" He watches as she smiles and he sees the gleam of mischief in those eyes of hers.

"I think you have been working a little too hard recently Edgar and you deserve to have some fun. Are you interested?"

"You brought guests?" The heartbeats he'd heard earlier.

"Two. They think Hal and I are the greatest most gullible fools in town…."

"And of course you did nothing to dissuade them of this notion…"

"Of course. Hal is charming them at the moment but I have told them that they must meet my wealthy brother who loves to spoil his only sister…" she laughs and Wyndam smiles.

"You are incorrigible. I almost pity them." he tells her. Once more she smiles.

"There's more than enough to go around. All of this work makes you a dull boy Edgar, how about some sport?" she suggests.

He holds out a hand. "Lead the way."

* * *

Hal has decided that he does not particularly like Richard Deveraux. He's an arrogant ass and he treats his companion with contemptible disrespect. Still, he pastes a polite smile upon his face and hopes that Maria returns shortly. She had excused herself with a mischievous smile, informing their guests that her brother should like to meet them.

"So, Mr Yorke…" Richard begins and Hal forces himself back to matters at hand.

"Hal…please…call me Hal." he invites with a smile.

"_Hal_. Have you and the charming Maria been wed for very long?" he enquires. Hal regards him.

"A matter of weeks" he answers and watches his expression change. "You seem surprised at that?"

"Forgive me sir but if you had not said so, I would not have believed that Maria was married, her conduct during the dance this evening suggested otherwise." Lucille interrupts and Hal turns his attention to her. He's been quite aware of how her eyes have taken in the furnishings, the tapestries and the plate on view. She's assessed every item and decided she likes what she sees.

"As I said, we've only been wed a matter of weeks, I think perhaps she forgets this sometimes, she has always been fiercely independent, done as she has seen fit."

"And I'm sure you will swiftly bring her under control." Richard comments and Hal regards him and swallows down the urge to laugh. He has yet to meet the person who can control Maria. She is a force unto herself but his opinion of Richard is strengthened. He is definitely an ass and he will enjoy ripping out his throat. If he hadn't fed upon the carriage driver earlier then perhaps that would be what he'd be doing right now. The temptation to, lurks strongly inside of him. He could make it a truly memorable event. He looks down at his feet as the thought of it causes his eyes to darken and he feels the sharpness of his fangs nipping at his lower lip. Neither Wyndam nor Maria would be best pleased if he decides to start the celebration without them. He closes his eyes and forces himself back under control. He raises his head as the door to the salon is opened again and Maria _thankfully_ returns and she has Wyndam with her.

Hal's attention slides back to their guests. The moment Maria mentioned her 'brother' and his wealth, he'd seen the spark of interest infuse Lucille Deveraux but the moment she sets eyes upon him, he sees that spark fade, her interest dull.

"Edgar, I'd like for you to meet our new friends Richard and Lucille Deveraux. This is my brother, Edgar Wyndam." she introduces and Hal has to admire the happy tone to Maria's voice. She does indeed sound like an indulged spoiled sibling. He sees how Edgar smiles at her before turning his attention to their guests. He takes Lucille's hand and looks into her eyes.

"I'm very honoured to make your acquaintance," He replies quietly and Hal watches curiously as Lucille seems to shift subtly in her seat, all of a sudden colour suffusing her cheeks.

"And you also sir." she replies coquettishly. Hal lifts his wine to his mouth and he takes a drink to hide his surprise. A smile and a few quietly spoken words and the previously frosty Madame Deveraux has thawed somewhat towards Wyndam.

"Mr Deveraux," Wyndam greets Richard with scrupulous politeness and a perfunctory shake of his hand before he glances at Hal.

"Shall we have more wine?" he suggests.

* * *

Frederick arrives promptly with a fresh decanter of wine and five clean glasses. Wyndam dismisses him and pours and serves. He's noticed how Lucille's eyes dart around, the lateness of the hour and the candlelight throw intriguing shadows around the room. She's giving the illusion that she's in complete control, that she and her companion are the ones in charge. The slightest of smiles curves his mouth as he presents Lucille with her wine with the faintest of flourishes.

"You seem a little…distracted Madame," he sees her flicker of surprise, quickly extinguished.

"You have a very fine house sir, you have owned it for long?" she enquires. Wyndam regards her. She's quite lovely, pale alabaster skin, dark curled hair. Her eyes are large; dark in colour, her lower lip holds his attention briefly. He blinks suddenly and returns his attention to her with a chivalrous smile.

"Since time immemorial. Allow me to show you around this room for example. I think you will find the tapestries especially interesting." He holds out an arm and he sees how she glances towards her companion who is engaged in conversation with Hal.

"I do believe they are negotiating a card game. Hal does like to play."

Maria watches keenly as Edgar charms Lucille Deveraux. It was like watching sunshine appear from behind a thunderously dark cloud. For the most part Edgar can and does look fearsome but once in a while he allows his charm to emerge. It catches people unaware and therefore is rarely unsuccessful. He's using it to full effect now as he takes a candlestick from the table and escorts his guest to the opposite side of the room to examine the richly woven tapestry that graces the wall there. Would she really enjoy hearing the story behind it, Maria doubts that she could even comprehend such a tale.

Wyndam pauses in front of the tapestry and he quietly smiles at it. He'd had it specially commissioned for this room and he is particularly fond of it. He places the candlestick down on the low cabinet in front of it. He glances at his companion, to see her staring up at it with wide eyes.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" He keeps his voice low and she glances uncertainly at him. After a pause, she nods. "It's very…_unusual_." she agrees.

Wyndam looks back up at it. "Are you familiar with Greek mythology?" he enquires and watches as she shakes her head. "This is the story of Hades, the God of the Underworld. You see, after the overthrow of his father, Cronos, he and his brothers drew lots for shares of the world. Zeus won the sky, Poseidon the sea and Hades seemed to draw the worst of them all, the Underworld. Well I say seemed to…" he returns his attention to the tapestry once more.

"I sometimes wonder whether he got exactly what he wanted…" he muses. He stares up at it, seeing the images he'd commissioned, the interpretation of an underworld that appealed to him, a man seated on a throne created from human bone, a beautiful woman seated on a similar chair by his side. All around them are pale wraiths, spirits; inhabitants of his underworld.

Once more Wyndam smiles very softly. "Seated beside him is his wife Persephone. Some say she was tricked into occupying underworld because Hades fed her pomegranate seeds and others think she was the true power behind the throne. The Dread Queen, dead but yet…living. Imagine that." He turns to look at her, his expression contemplative. He sees how she stares at the tapestry with wide eyes and then he notices the tiniest of shivers tremble through her.

"It is also said that Hades was also the God of wealth, that he possessed a helmet that afforded him invisibility and that he was terrible and unpitying." He watches how she slowly turns to look at him. She looks positively terrified. "Have I unnerved you Lucille? It was not my intent. Come, let us take a seat and we shall have more wine. I get rather…carried away with subjects that interest me, I must apologise." He smiles as he takes her arm and leads her to a chair by the fireplace and makes sure that she is seated. She remains where she is as Wyndam goes to get her a fresh glass of wine. In the meantime, Hal and Richard are seemingly engrossed in their card game.

* * *

Wyndam sees the somewhat weaker smile that crosses Lucille's face as he delivers the goblet of wine to her. She possesses none of the calculating greed of earlier, in fact she seems to be a little bit perturbed by the tale he had shared with her. Does she believe that such stories are real? His musings are interrupted by a thump and as Wyndam turns his head, he sees Richard get to his feet. He does not look at all happy. He sees how Hal remains seated, how he regards him with a little smile upon his face.

"Is there a problem?" Wyndam enquires. Richard looks across at him and he sees how Wyndam stands behind Lucille, a hand resting lightly upon one of her shoulders. He looks at him and then at Lucille but doesn't speak.

"I think he's accusing me of cheating." Hal informs him in a languid tone. Wyndam looks across to Maria who was seated beside Richard and she gives a subtle shake of her head.

"And were you?" Wyndam asks. Hal looks at him, he looks almost affronted.

"I most certainly was not. I don't need to cheat. I was taught well." he throws a derisory look Richard's way "Some people just don't appreciate being bested by others." he drawls. Wyndam watches as the insult hits home.

"Hal is very good…" Maria interjects. Hal straightens in his chair and he reaches for the gold accumulated in the centre of the table. He pauses and he then looks up at Richard. There's a gleam in his eye as he regards him.

"Though I would be willing to forfeit…for a price." His voice is low and suggestive. Richard stares at him.

"And what _is_ your price?" he asks. Hal turns in his seat and he looks at Lucille, seated beside the fireplace with Wyndam's hand still on her shoulder. He slowly smiles.

"A night with the beautiful Lucille." He announces as he looks back to Richard to see him blank faced with shock.

"How _dare_ you…" Lucille exclaims and Hal turns again to regard her, to see her getting to her feet. With barely applied pressure Wyndam pushes her back down again. Her eyes go wide. Hal smiles once more and he looks back to Richard. He has turned very pale indeed and he sees how he looks to Maria.

"You allow your husband to conduct himself in this disgraceful manner?" he blusters, two red dots of colour appearing in his ashen cheeks. Maria looks at Hal and he sees the twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

"On the contrary sir, I wouldn't call his conduct disgraceful, a little bit naughty perhaps but that is Hal for you. He can be very mischievous at times." She grins at him. She glides over to him and leans over and presses an affectionate kiss on his forehead. She straightens up and looks straight at Richard.

"Do you not realise how…_disrespectful_ he is being? It is an outrage!" he yells and as Maria comes closer to him, she sees the sweat forming on his brow.

"Hal can be outrageous I do agree and yes, somewhat disrespectful too but you must understand that he is young and he is used to getting what he wants and tonight that happens to be your Lucille. He is such a lusty boy. She will enjoy his company tremendously. I think she somewhat deserves it after this evening. _Sit_ _down_." her voice suddenly hardens and immediately the atmosphere within the room changes.

Richard slowly does as he is told. Hal straightens in his seat and there is a gleam in his eye as he watches Maria. She goes to stand behind Richard and she leans over slightly, her arms sliding over his shoulders, her hands resting on his chest. He freezes.

"You will not move do you understand me? You misunderstood us this evening Mr Deveraux. You and your companion here took us for gullible rich fools, easy marks. How very wrong you were." Her mouth is close to his ear, her voice soft but threatening and Richard isn't the only one to feel a tingle spark up and down his spine at her tone. "And for your arrogance and your greed you must be duly punished." She looks at Hal and slowly she smiles.

Hal turns in his seat once more and watches how Wyndam looks at Lucille. He sees the hunger in his expression as he takes in the length of her elegant neck, the white unblemished skin. He feels an answering gnaw in the pit of his stomach, the strength of it making him restless. He slowly gets to his feet, watching attentively as Wyndam kneels down beside Lucille and brushes her hair to one side.

"Such beauty don't you think Hal?" he suggests, watching as he approaches them.

"Beyond compare sir…" he halts, his eyes drop to the pulse beating erratically at the base of her pale throat and he waits, curling both hands into fists. Wyndam looks across the room to Richard. He allows his eyes to bleed black and his fangs to appear. Across the room Richard Deveraux exclaims in horror and struggles in his seat but Maria holds him firm.

"Keep still…do not move a single muscle." she instructs, her lips still beside his ear. He goes obediently still.

* * *

Hal watches how Wyndam looks back down at Lucille's neck. This is the first time he has seen him in this state with coal black eyes and fangs on show. He feels a chill of fear distil in the pit of his stomach as he witnesses how he bites into her. It's with a delicacy borne of five centuries of existence and he feels the hunger inside of him strengthen and intensify. Once more he feels the sharpness of his own fangs against his lower lip. Lucille cries out and she arches her spine as Wyndam lays claim to her blood. Without pausing, his hand covers her mouth and stifles her screams. After a moment, Lucille's eyes droop and the fight goes out of her. Hal waits, fidgeting as Wyndam feeds. He wants to taste her for himself and after what feels like an endless age, Wyndam lifts his head. Blood coats his lips and drips onto his chin. He reaches down and grabs a handful of material of Lucille's gown and slowly draws it upwards. Hal watches as first her shoes and then her fine white stockings are revealed to him. He then sees the pale skin of her exposed thighs.

"There's a vein in her upper thigh that, if you know how to find it, will feed you as richly as the vein in her neck." he tells him. Hal's eyes widen slightly in acknowledgment.

"Go between her legs and use your senses. You'll find it." he tells him and goes back to his feeding.

Lucille is almost unconscious as Hal does as Wyndam has told him. She has long slender legs. He looks down and he listens and then he hears it, a still strong pulse of blood. He reaches out and traces a blue vein visible beneath the still warm, pale skin. Instinct overtakes as he leans down and sinks his fangs into the softness, his black eyes sliding closed as hot blood bursts into his mouth.

He's lost in the bliss of the blood feed, his fingers gripping her thigh with bruising intensity. She's every bit as delicious as he imagined her to be and initially he doesn't feel the pressure of the hand at his shoulder. Suddenly he is yanked back and he snarls before his vision clears.

"Her heart has stopped Hal…and we have another matter to deal with." Wyndam's voice is rough with impatience and he blinks up at him. Then he turns his head when he hears Maria curse vividly and ripely. He sees how she gets to her feet. There's blood on her lips, which she wipes away with the back of one hand. Hal frowns as he gets to his feet.

"What happened?"

"The fool took me by surprise and bolted." she complains with a frown. Hal turns his head towards the door and he listens.

"The house is locked up, it's black at pitch. He won't get far." Wyndam informs them. Hal's vision sharpens as the anticipation of a hunt fills him.

"And he's bleeding." Maria adds.

* * *

The house is in absolute darkness and silent. Hal and Maria emerge into the main body of the house and they both listen.

"Kitchen." Hal whispers. Maria frowns.

"How do you know?" Hal glances at Wyndam as he approaches the pair, a candlestick in his hand.

"It's where I would run to." he comments. Wyndam hands him the candle stick.

"Then find him." he instructs and he watches as they head in the direction of the large kitchen.

Hal smiles as he hears the rapid tattoo of Richard's panicked heartbeat. He is close at hand.

"Dear Richard…leaving us so soon?" He calls out. He grins when he hears the quiet exclamation of fear, the rapid footsteps. The pair reach the kitchen doorway; the room is empty at this time of night though the room is still warm from the ovens.

"Oh come now, must you do this to yourself? There's nowhere for you to go. The doors and windows are locked tight." he chides. He steps just inside of the kitchen and he can see the whiteness of his shirt in the shadows, no doubt stained by blood.

Then there is a clatter, an exclamation as Richard falls heavily. Hal pretends to wince. "I think he's found the driver." he whispers to Maria and her eyes go round.

"You left him there for the servants?" she whispers and Hal shrugs.

"Leftovers, I do share sometimes." he murmurs back and smiles when she rolls her eyes in response.

"Honestly Hal, such untidiness." she gently chides. He shrugs again.

"A bad habit of mine I must confess. Richard is all yours my lady. I've already dined this evening." He turns his head as Wyndam comes into view. Hal sees the blood that stains his skin, dyes the front of his shirt.

"I thought you would have marked Mr Deveraux for yourself?" he comments as he pauses beside him. Hal regards him.

"It would hardly seem fair. We share sometimes don't we?"

"Indeed we do Mr Yorke, indeed we do. Please could you give this to Maria when she's finished?" he holds something in his hand which he drops into his. Hal looks down at it and sees the diamond necklace of earlier. He raises an eyebrow and glances into the room as Richard's scream of agony rents the air.

"I think she's quite forgotten about this. I'll make sure she receives it." They both look again as Richard's screams dissolve into a long messy wet gurgle.

"I think she's earned it." Wyndam comments and Hal watches him walk away.


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you to those still reading and leaving reviews, very much appreciated. This chapter deals with the aftermath of chapter sixteen. Would love to hear your thoughts. All errors, as usual, are my own and not intentional.**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen:**

All is quiet within the household. Nobody stirs and silence reigns.

The light in the salon changes from its previous midnight blue to a somewhat lighter shade of blue tinged with pink and a hint of gold. As the sun peers above the horizon, it washes the salon a gradually more dominant pale golden shade.

Inside of the room carnage has spent itself and evidence of a night of horror and debauchery is open to view.

Wine decanters and goblets are drained and upended. They lie forgotten on flat surfaces; tables, the floor and even on the window sill. A puddle of fine red wine is partially soaked into the rushes and it mixes with blood already spilled.

As the dawn arrives, the salon is painted with pale fresh washed colour. As the light becomes brighter, the shadows scurry from view.

Presently footsteps echo outside of the room, accompanied by the low hum of conversation. The handle twists and the door squeaks open to admit two people.

Maud stands still just inside of the entrance and surveys the damage.

"It looks like Mr Wyndam and his family had quite the celebration last night," she comments to her companion who pauses beside her.

"Well Sir did venture out late last night, perhaps this was just for starters or what he brought home," Ginny answers as she goes further inside. "Best get this lot cleared up, you know how he gets if everything isn't immaculate." She carries a pail of hot water with some soap and there is a large linen sheet carefully folded over one arm.

"I think we may need Louis's assistance for this one." she adds, seeing the girl lying dead on the day bed. She approaches her and surveys her laid out like a supper buffet, sightless eyes gazing heavenwards, her throat ripped down to the bone and an intriguing looking bite mark high up on one thigh. The bodice of her pale blue dress is spotted with blood, the skirts pushed obscenely high, exposing just about everything that's indecent about her. Her eyes slide downwards to the fine silk stockings and the expensive ivory silk covered shoes. It would seem that the house's inhabitants had attracted themselves a fine lady. Ginny glances away as her companion stands beside her and also looks down at her.

"Long dead, cold as the grave. Pity," she tells her.

"It'll be down to the young Lord, he likes a bit of debauchery does that one." Maud looks at Ginny who smiles back at her. Ginny has grown sweet on the newest member of the family, Hal his name is and she can understand why. He's handsome alright with his light brown curling hair, full mouth, long well-made legs and broad shoulders. If he were human he'd be a catch for any self-respecting female.

"You don't know that he's a Lord, he isn't addressed as such." Maud reminds her a touch impatiently and beside her Ginny shrugs.

"Well he should be, what with that accent and those looks of his…and the fact that Sir has taken him under his wing." Ginny answers defensively and Maud rolls her eyes and gives her head a little shake.

"You're sweet on him Ginny, for all we know he's a gutter rat who happened to be gifted with this life. I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to reinvent himself. Let's get on with this before Sir wakes up. They've made quite the mess this time."

Candles are burned down to stubs, the dripped wax dried to hardened shells on the wooden furniture. The two females work diligently at erasing the evidence of the night's shenanigans. It isn't the first time they've done this and they don't speculate as they clean and wash and dispose. Ginny approaches the card table set up in the opposite corner of the room and she sees the collection of gold coins and the scattered playing cards left there. She tidies them up and drops the coins in the leather pouch that had been thrown onto the floor. She pulls the drawstring closed and leaves it on the table. Theft is not tolerated; Mr Wyndam's punishments are brutal. He will know that this is here and will expect it to be still here when he comes back. No one dares to defy him.

Together they rearrange the discarded corpse and Louis arrives to carry it through to a small room which is off the kitchen. No one gives him a look as he strides through the kitchen with the body slung over one wide shoulder. This room is colder than the rest of the house and already contains two similarly wrapped bodies prepared for disposal. They have been stripped of their clothing and other such belongings and those contents will be shared between the staff. He has been told that it's a perk of their employment. Louis barely casts the pile of clothing a look as he lays the body on the wide wooden table between the two waiting occupants.

* * *

Frederick carries the tray up two flights of stairs. He doesn't speak nor does he acknowledge anyone along the way. On the tray is a bowl hidden by a white linen cloth. He ignores the scent that rises from it as he walks along the narrow corridor to his master's room. He pauses outside of it and takes a second to straighten his spine and square his shoulders. He balances the tray on one hand and carefully knocks on the bedroom door. He doesn't wait to be bid entrance as he turns the handle and opens it.

The room is heavy with shadows as he makes his entrance. He crosses the room to a low cabinet beside the large bed and places the tray upon it and as he straightens, one of the hangings flanking the bed is drawn back and his master comes into view.

"Good morning sir…I trust you slept well." Frederick greets. Wyndam doesn't respond, instead he moves around so that he's sat sideways and he reaches for the covered bowl. Frederick heads to the windows and opens the thick dark green curtains that hide the room from daylight and he slowly opens them. Bright sunlight floods through, illuminating every nook and cranny. Frederick turns and he sees the clothing that litters the floor.

"Matters are under control downstairs sir, seems like last night was quite a celebration." As he turns around he notices that Wyndam is not alone. He pauses when he sees the thin red haired girl lying in that enormous bed, the sheet drawn up to her chin. She's staring at him with wide confused dark eyes. He understands almost immediately as they make eye contact. Frederick then turns and continues to pick up the thrown about clothing. He folds each items carefully and neatly.

"Good. Have you seen Hal or Maria this morning?" Wyndam enquires.

"Not yet sir. With respect, it's probably a little bit too early for them at the moment." Wyndam's answering chuckle sounds a little bit rusty.

"No, you're probably quite right." he agrees and stands up. Frederick glances at the occupant of the bed again. She'll be another new recruit, a further employee of the house. Most of the girls here were recruited by him. She looks terrified and he feels the slightest twinge of sympathy. Using his fingertips, he carefully picks up the home made gown of an indiscriminate shade of green and drops it onto the mattress beside her.

"Did you manage to find out any information regarding our guests last night?" Wyndam enquires. Frederick looks at him and he nods. He turns away from the girl and crosses the room and opens a chest, from which he extracts several items of clothing. He lays them down on the bed beside him.

"They own a property on the edge of town, further west. It is quite isolated and private and may come in useful in the future." He sees how Wyndam frowns.

"We must investigate this property as soon as possible." He pauses and looks over his shoulder as if realising for the first time that they aren't alone. The girl from his bed stands beside it, dressed now and still pale and wide eyed. Wyndam sighs and returns his attention to Frederick.

"Could you take…_her_ down to the kitchen and introduce her to Mistress Agnes? She'll show her the ropes and introduce her to the rest of the staff and get acquainted with her new…way of life." He watches as Frederick nods and then bows. He returns his attention to the young girl. She looks scared to death as she casts Wyndam a wary look. Frederick holds out a hand.

"This way miss…" he begins and watches the girl carefully edge towards him. He makes himself smile.

"No harm will come to you," he promises and he means it literally. She's a new recruit, raw, bewildered and terrified and it is down to people such as himself and Agnes to help show her how to get used to how life will be from now on. They're all the same here, vampires. Frederick casts another look at his master. He's shrugging on a robe and there's a frown on his face as no doubt matters of the day encroach on his mind.

"I'll be back presently to deal with the matter of your bath sir." he reminds him and Wyndam glances at him and nods distractedly.

Together Frederick and his charge leave Wyndam's chamber.

"Emma…" she tells him, her voice is low, shy and it trembles slightly. Frederick looks at her with a frown on his face. She's such a fragile looking thing and he has to wonder where his master found this mouse of a girl.

"My name…it's Emma." she informs him.

* * *

The loud slam of a door jolts Maria suddenly awake. She opens her eyes and looks up at the ceiling for a moment. It is morning, possibly quite late judging by the amount of light attempting entry through the heavy dark red curtains at the windows. As her mind clears further, she becomes more aware of a weight across the lower half of her body. She lifts her head slightly from the pillow and looks down to see Hal draped over her, his head pillowed on her stomach. Memories of the previous night begin to filter through but first, she must see who it is leaving the house at this hour. She pushes at his shoulder and automatically he rolls over, onto his opposite side. She climbs out of bed and hurries naked to the window. She peers around one of the curtains and she sees Edgar with Frederick and several other retainers of the house. He mounts his horse ahead of a wagon and she frowns as she watches them ride away. She wonders where he's off to.

The chilly morning air nips at bare skin and Maria shivers. She returns to the bed and pulls the sheets and blankets up around her chin. She lies back down but stares at the back of a still slumbering Hal.

They'd had such fun last night, drunk on blood and wine. How they had laughed and caroused. Edgar had disappeared God only knows where to, leaving she and Hal both at the house. They'd danced to imaginary music, she had taught him the rudimentary steps of several easy dances and he had shown surprising aptitude and grace. She makes a mental note to mention the fact to Edgar. Perhaps he can include dance lessons in his grand scheme for him. They had ended up here and oh… a small smile of remembrance lifts the corners of her mouth. _Oh_. She takes in the width of his shoulders. He is not as powerfully built as some men she has known but he possesses strength and endurance. He is slender but well-muscled, _very_ well-muscled and carries not an ounce of fat anywhere on that body of his. His fingers are long and elegant, his hands large. He's eager to learn, pliable in some respects and so young.

"Lizzie…we can't…" his voice is thick with sleep and slurred. Maria goes absolutely still. The mattress moves as Hal twitches.

"No…no, he won't…he won't …let us." he mumbles and he tosses his head restlessly. Maria's curiosity grows. She wonders who Lizzie is, whether she is someone from his past. She waits.

"Please…Lizzie…please…" he mutters. He shifts, rolls onto his back and the mattress lurches once more. She continues to watch him. There were no nocturnal troubles last night but she wonders how deeply asleep he has to be for them to happen.

Maria moves closer to him, she carefully reaches across and touches his shoulder, her fingers curling into the muscle there. She gives him a little cautionary shake.

"Hal…you're dreaming…wake up." she whispers. She watches as he frowns though his eyes are still shut. Then they slowly, gradually open and Maria watches how he blinks and she knows the moment that he's aware. He turns his head and he looks at her. He doesn't speak.

"You were dreaming." she tells him. "Who is Lizzie?"

She watches how his expression turns curiously blank. He sits up, drawing his knees up and resting his elbows on them as he pulls fingers through unkempt hair.

"I have no idea." he tells her. She copies, her eyes never leaving him.

"I think that you do. I think you know exactly who she is. Is she someone special Hal? Is she a lover? a sweetheart? Who?" He turns his head and he glares at her.

"Why should that matter to you Maria? Why? She's nobody to you. Are you actually jealous?" he snaps back, his eyes flashing with emotion. Maria stares at him.

"Jealous of someone who once had a part in your life? Hardly!" she retorts haughtily and Hal chuckles humourlessly and shakes his head in response.

"Then why would you want to know?" he snaps back and he kicks back the sheet and he climbs out of bed.

"Because you were dreaming about her so she must have meant something to you!" she retaliates crossly. He pauses beside the bed and for a moment he stares into nothing and she knows that whoever she is or was, he is remembering her and jealousy spikes her heart. It disconcerts her. He turns his head and he stares at her. His eyes are wide and glassy looking.

"She wasn't a sweetheart or a lover and that is all you need to know. I'm going to get dressed. I'd advise you to do the same." he informs her in a strangely controlled voice. He leans down and picks up the clothing scattered at his feet. He holds them in front of his body in a small bundle and walks out of the room.

* * *

Bartholomew West turns his head when he hears the door open and he quickly hides his surprise upon seeing Hal enter. He doesn't look as well presented as usual. His shirt is untucked, his hair uncombed and he looks in need of a shave.

"Mr Yorke." he comments instead and Hal regards him.

"Mr West." he answers politely "Am I late?" he continues and he walks to the table where more books and parchments await his attention.

"Oh…umm…not overly so. I really wasn't expecting to see you today; you caught me a little by surprise." Hal glances at him as he takes his seat.

"Oh really, why?" he enquires and Bartholomew regards him for a moment or two before he approaches him.

"Because you were distinctly uninterested in any kind of lesson I had to offer the last time we were together. In fact I thought you were just humouring Mr Wyndam and myself." he replies. Hal sits a little straighter in his seat.

"Well I've had time to come to terms with the idea and if Mr Wyndam thinks this will further my prospects then who am I to argue with him. Shall we begin?"

Bartholomew stares at him open-mouthed. Then he realises, and he gives a little shake of his head as instead he offers a smile. "Of course Hal, let's begin. The letters of the alphabet…"

* * *

Hal is avoiding her. She hasn't seen him at all since their disagreement earlier in the day and the door to the library has remained firmly closed. It would seem that he's developed an all-consuming interest in pursuing an education. Edgar still hasn't returned from his trip either and she's still wondering where he could have got to. She also wonders whether it has something to do with their guests of the previous evening.

The sun is sinking below the horizon when Hal eventually exits the library. His head is aching from what he has learned today; letter formation, improving his reading skills and the potential that both will afford him in the future. He is enjoying it in a strange kind of manner. He finds it easier than he expected it to be. He's hungry and he wonders if he can scrounge anything from the kitchen. Maybe if he charms one of the maids, he's noticed one of them becomes very shy and tongue-tied in his presence. He smiles to himself. Perhaps she's in the kitchen this evening? He heads off in its direction.

Maria opens the door to Edgar's study and she smiles when she sees him seated behind his desk. He looks up but his face is expressionless and he goes back to his task. As she approaches, she sees what it is that he's doing.

The surface of the desk is covered with jewellery; necklaces, bracelets, rings and ear bobs. Diamonds, emeralds, rubies and sapphires, they twinkle and gleam in the candle light. Maria's eyes widen with delight and she advances towards the desk.

"Edgar…where on _earth_ did you get these from?" She reaches for a ring that holds an emerald the size of a bird's egg and exclaims when he slaps the back of her hand.

"I've just returned from investigating a property previously owned by our guests yesterday evening. This is what I uncovered and have claimed." He reaches for a rope of pale ivory fat pearls and trails them through his fingers. "Quite the collection and all of it stolen." he glances at her.

"It's almost amusing that your ruby necklace of yesterday caught her attention at the soiree you and Hal attended. A lot of this jewellery is easily worth twice the amount of that piece."

"Perhaps we should have made a straight exchange instead." Maria muses and Wyndam glances at her. He discards the pearls and reaches for the emerald ring she had been admiring earlier. He holds it in the palm of his hand as if weighing it.

"She wanted more than that, much more. They both did, to their peril. You play with fire, one day you will get burned." He drops the ring into her hand and watches how her eyes light up. She smiles at him as she slides it onto one finger. He isn't surprised in the slightest to discover that it fits.

"Thank you Edgar." she tells him and he allows himself a smile.

"You earned it. Where is Hal, I thought perhaps he could choose something from all of this." His hand sweeps across the gems.

"I have no idea; I have not seen him all day. He's been locked away in the library with Bartholomew." Maria grumbles, still looking at the ring, turning her hand this way and that. Wyndam looks at her, mildly surprised.

"Voluntarily? Did you two have a disagreement?" She pauses and slowly and warily she looks at him.

"And why would you say that?"

"Because it's the only reason I can think of why Hal would _voluntarily_ spend time in the library with Bartholomew, to stay out of _your_ way." He watches how she frowns. "What was it about?" he enquires and she glances at him.

"I asked him about Lizzie. He was talking in his sleep." she defends when he begins to frown.

"And what did he say?" he asks.

"That she was neither a lover nor a sweetheart. He became very defensive." Maria pouts.

"He wouldn't talk about her?" Maria shakes her head rapidly, still frowning slightly.

"He needs to talk about whatever it is that causes him to have these nightmares, about her."

"Not until he's ready to but he will and with the right incentive, just give him time." he advises. He smiles very slightly at her obvious frustration. "You always were far too impatient my dear."

* * *

The kitchen maids are all in a flutter over the bounty that was delivered to them earlier in the evening. Emma sits and watches them, still too shy and too new to join in with their excitement.

One of the vampires from upstairs, Louis she thinks his name is, delivered two large chests into the main kitchen area and at this moment in time the maids and kitchen assistants are delving into them and extracting the contents. There are stockings and chemises and shoes and gowns of unbelievable beauty, colour and expense. She hasn't ever seen anything quite so fine before. Her own head is still filled with the buzz of confusion. She feels strange still, as though her body doesn't quite belong to her. Agnes has assured her that the feeling will pass in time and she has to trust her but right now everything feels strange and she's ravenously hungry. It itches at her constantly, like an irritating flea bite. She looks to the doorway and wonders whether Mr Wyndam…_Edgar_ will appear, to see how she's fitting in.

"Here…this is yours." She turns her head back and watches as Agnes approaches her, a pale blue silk dress looped over one arm and Emma's eyes go wide with surprise.

"M…me?" she whispers as Agnes drops it across her lap.

"Yes, you. You can't be expected to wear that dreary green thing forever. This is much more suitable. Of course you're just a dainty little thing but a few of us are handy with a needle and thread, we'll alter it to fit you in no time at all. Why don't you have a look in the other trunk and see if there are any shoes to fit you too?" she suggests and she sees how wide the girl's eyes go. She looks down at the dress and then she looks to the doorway instead. Agnes sighs quietly.

"You won't be seeing him again my dear…" She keeps her voice quiet, motherly and Emma looks back at her with innocently wide eyes. Agnes knows that as time goes on, that innocence will quickly be stripped away.

"Who…"

"You know who I mean…the Master. You have stars in your eyes my dear. He took you to bed, made you what you are and you think that you're somebody special to him. In truth you are not and he won't come, he won't come to see you. It's just the way that he is." She sees the pain flare in her eyes. She approaches her and smiles at her as she sits down beside her.

"You're part of this family now my dear and we'll take care of you." she lifts a hand and brushes an errant red curl behind one ear, _Sir is always especially fascinated with girls with red hair for some reason._ "We'll show you how to survive. He's harsh but he's fair and you'll quickly get used to it. Now go and see if there are any shoes in that trunk that'll fit your little feet." She nudges her towards the group of maids still gathered around the trunks and watches her go. She didn't want to remind her that chances are, he won't even know her name or care to know it. _It's just the way he is_. She smiles as she watches how she examines the gift that she's been given

Emma stands up and holds the dress up against her and she looks down at the pale blue silky material. It is the most exquisite thing she's ever touched never mind owned and her mind reels. She doesn't want to believe Mistress Agnes's words but she realises that she's been here a while and she will know his habits. She sighs and forces the sadness out of her mind.

There are a few spots of blood on the bodice but she's sure she'll get those out in no time at all.

* * *

Hal enters the study at Wyndam's request and he falters briefly when he sees Maria seated beside the fire. The look he sends her is distinctly wary as he approaches Wyndam's desk.

His voice is low. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did. I wanted to give you this." Wyndam hands something over to Hal. For a moment Hal pauses, unsure.

"A gift sir?" Hesitantly he holds out a hand and Wyndam drops a heavy gold and ruby brooch into it. He looks down at it in surprise before looking back at him.

"I don't understand…"

"The Deveraux's from yesterday Hal, this was part of the spoils of the evening. Take it, you've earned it. Call it a reward." He watches how Hal looks down at it again, curling his fingers around it.

"Thank you sir." he whispers, his tone strangely impersonal. Wyndam regards him for a moment.

"You don't receive many gifts do you?" he mentions and Hal quickly shakes his head.

"You distrust them, you think that there's an ulterior motive in receiving them." He watches how Hal's head snaps up in astonishment at this observation.

"I don't have such a motive Hal, it is a gift, honestly meant." he assures him. He sees how Hal looks between him and Maria. He gets to his feet.

"How about sharing some wine with us Hal? I received some encouraging news this evening. The weather is finally on our side, we leave for England tomorrow."


	18. Chapter 18

**With thanks to those still reading and reviewing. Hal is heading to a crisis point . All errors are my own and unintentional, would love to hear your thoughts. **

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen.**

The sky is stained a deep bruised purple as dusky shadows gather. Hal pays them no attention as he walks towards the stables. His stride is long and purposeful, his shoulders are squared and his brow is furrowed in concentration.

_Tomorrow, we leave tomorrow._

He pushes the panic further away. He tells himself that yes they are returning to England but he will not be returning to _him_. He doesn't have to, he owes him nothing. London is a growing city; he has nothing to be afraid of. He takes a breath as he enters the stables and the familiar scent of horse flesh, straw and manure assaults his nostrils. He pauses just inside of the door way and unclenches tightly gripped fists.

He won't see _him_ again but he still invades his dreams, his nightmares. He still remembers and has never forgotten any of it, and whether he likes it or not his dreams about him still haunt him, reminding him of his atrocities and his abuse.

But he is no longer that scared helpless little boy. On the contrary, he could return to that hell-hole he'd existed in and massacre them all. He could bathe in their blood, glory in it, walk away and celebrate their demise. He owes them nothing except that. He ponders the idea for a moment. It makes him smile with its possibilities. What would Edmund think upon seeing that? It would be nice to return that kind of fear to him, a thousand fold.

He walks again, pausing by each stall until he comes to Achilles. He watches as he approaches him and he smiles as he reaches out and with a gentle hand, strokes the long velvety muzzle. The horse snorts and nudges against his shoulder. Hal chuckles quietly and opens the gate.

* * *

Wyndam lifts his head as the door to the salon opens and he watches Maria enter. He sees how her eyes cast about the room.

"Hal isn't here." he informs her. She looks at him.

"He doesn't seem to be in the house. No one has seen him." she replies and Wyndam shrugs. He'd barely stayed long enough to have a drink with them.

"Perhaps he has gone into town, a final hurrah before departure tomorrow?" he suggests and Maria frowns irritably.

"Or he could have just…_left_. You mentioned returning to England, perhaps it was too much for him to take on and he's left." she answers.

Slowly Wyndam gets to his feet. "I'm sure you've visited his chamber, is his travelling chest still there?" he enquires. Maria looks up at him as he slowly approaches her.

"Yes but he could have just decided to travel lightly and unencumbered…"

Wyndam places his hands on her shoulders "You are unusually concerned about his well-being Maria. Have you checked the stables?" She flicks another look up at him but her frown does not fade.

"Not yet, that was my next port of call."

"Then we shall look together. If Achilles is still there then we'll know he has perhaps gone into town seeking some sport of some description." he reassures her.

They head toward the stable block. The evening shadows have grown darker and a stiff breeze whips around them as they walk.

"What if he's left Edgar?" she enquires as they approach the building. He glances at her.

"You're beginning to sound remarkably like a wife my dear. The charade with the Deveraux's was exactly that. He is not your property." he chides but there's a hint of censure in his tone.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she demands and Wyndam pauses suddenly and he turns to regard her.

"Exactly how it was meant to sound like. Hal is not your husband. You may enjoy a bit of rough and tumble with him on occasion but that does not entitle you to ownership of him." he retorts and ignores her gasp of outrage and turns back to the stable block. He goes inside.

He frowns when he sees that the stall containing Achilles is empty. Slowly he turns to look at Maria.

"Now do you think he's left?" Maria demands and he frowns at her.

"Maybe and maybe not. He has until dawn to return. I've been waiting for something like this, a show of spirit, a hint of that rebellion I keep hearing about."

"He's strong willed Edgar; he won't care what you think or what you expect." Maria jabs and he glares at her.

"He made a promise to me Maria and as you know, I like those promises to be kept. He has until dawn to make his return. It would be an act of gross stupidity for him to defy me further."

* * *

Hal crouches low over Achilles' neck and lets him have his run. He feels the wind whip at his skin, rush through his hair, his cloak flying out behind him. The scenery rushes past him in a blackened, shadowy blur and it is exhilarating. He feels euphoric, he feels _free_ and he almost laughs out loud. The thoughts of England and what lie there fly away like insects. It fades away, released like the catch of a cloak. He smiles broadly. He could keep riding, keep going and not stop until the sun rises once again. How far could he go and how long would it take Wyndam to realise? What would he do? He ponders on it for a moment until ahead in the distance he sees a faint orange glow and as he gets closer he smells wood smoke. He slows Achilles until he's walking more sedately but his lungs heave a little bit. It's been a little while since he last did this, he'll be a little bit out of practice. He brings Achilles to a halt and he listens intently. He can hear the low murmur of conversation, the rapid but steady pulsing of heartbeats.

Carefully and as quietly as possible he dismounts. He tethers his horse to the low branches of a tree and he turns his attention to the small group of people huddled around the camp fire he'd smelled earlier. They don't seem to be aware of him just yet. His senses sharpen with his interest. He counts six of them; an older man and woman and there are four children of varying ages, two of them seem to be in their teens and the two younger ones seem to be several years below that in age. Their clothing is cheap and coarse looking. He slowly crouches down behind a low bush and he continues to observe them unnoticed. They talk amidst themselves as they eat and he watches how they interact, how they smile at one another. Their eyes are warm, their smiles wide and honest. He waits for the frowns, the anger and the blows that are surely to accompany them. He's used to moods changing on a whim which over time made him very aware and quick on his feet. His head tilts to one side curiously. Then he slowly rises to his feet and moves closer to them, carefully drawing his sword from its scabbard as he does so.

He's almost upon them when the oldest male becomes aware of his presence. Hal watches how he stiffens and then quickly turns in his direction and upon spying him he jumps to his feet. Automatically Hal raises his sword and points it towards his chest. The two young boys follow suit and from the corner of his eye he sees the two girls huddle close to their mother. It's a family group he realises as he sees their faces more clearly, sees the family resemblance in faces and colouring. For a brief moment he wonders whether he ever shared a resemblance to those who'd sired and birthed him. The thought is discarded in an instant as he returns his attention to the father figure. He holds the blade in a steady grip.

"Well...isn't this pleasant?" he begins. He grins as the father lunges towards him but he freezes when Hal presses the point of his sword into the centre of his chest.

"Ah ah ah…" he taunts, the briefest hint of a smile on his face. "Do not, if you value the lives of your wife and your children." he warns in a low voice. The two men stare at each other.

"We have nothing worth stealing" the older man tells him and watches how he looks at his wife and children in turn before returning his attention to him.

"I'm not here to rob you," Hal retorts scornfully.

"What do you want?" he demands and Hal shrugs casually.

"I haven't quite decided just yet." Out of the corner of his eye he sees one of the older boys move towards him and with his other hand, he reaches behind him and pulls out the blade he keeps tucked in the small of his back and he points it in his direction.

"I will not hesitate to use this. Do you have a problem understanding me?" his voice rises sharply with irritation.

"There are six of us, you are insane if you think you can beat us!" the same boy cries out. Hal hears the fear tremble in his voice.

"Such bravado young sir, perhaps that is indeed the case but in truth maybe two of you would have the courage to try and attack. Your other boy will try to protect your mother and your sisters. You cannot stop me, nor can you kill me and trust me when I say that I will not hesitate in ending your lives and glorying in your blood." he answers and hears the whimpers of fear from the girls who are huddled pathetically in their mother's embrace, hiding in her skirts. He stares at them. They stare back with terrified eyes, their tears making paths in the grime on their faces. Hal takes a sharp step back as the father attempts to dodge around the blade. He attacks, the blade sinking easily into the soft flesh of the father's belly. Hal watches in mild curiosity how his eyes bulge in pain as he grabs at his wound and sinks to his knees. He yanks the sword out as the older man keels over. He lifts his eyes and fixes the eldest son with a steady glare.

"Did you think I was bluffing? I never bluff." he hisses.

He strides towards them, his eyes bleaching a furious black.

* * *

No one hears their screams or their pleas for mercy. This deep in the woods there isn't another soul for miles. The shadows deepen into the full blackness of night and the camp fire is reduced to a pile of glowing embers. Hal kneels in front of it, seemingly mesmerised by the glow. Slowly he lifts an arm and wipes his forearm across his mouth, smearing the sleeve of his shirt red. He hears a timid whimper and he turns his head in its direction.

The little boy stares back at him with wide, terrified eyes. Hal regards him. He lies on a pile of worn sacking, trembling, gazing at him as if he's Lucifer reborn. And perhaps he is.

"Stop making that noise." Hal instructs in a hard voice and sees the boy clamp his hand over his mouth but his entire body trembles all the same. Hal continues to stare at him, at his mid brown hair and big eyes. He looks to be about seven or eight years of age. He remembers being that age. It feels like an eternity ago.

'_Where are you hidin' you little bastard…you'd better pray I don't find you!' _ The loud angry roar echoes inside of Hal's skull, making him flinch. He blinks and turns his head quickly, his eyes searching for additional shadows in the blackness. There's nobody there, of course there is nobody there. He sighs shakily. He returns his attention to his companion. He sees the blood splotches that taint his skin and spot his clothing. He'd made quite a mess he has to admit. Usually he's rather methodical but something about this evening unleashed the animal in him. It had felt…liberating to let go like that.

"Come here." Hal instructs. He reaches for the boy, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck as he gets to his feet. The boy stiffens and freezes. Hal glances at him as he does so.

"Wh…where are we going?" the boy's voice shakes as they begin to walk.

"I need to wash…" Hal murmurs as he listens for the sound of rushing water. He didn't pay too much attention to his surroundings before but he assumes that since the family camped here then running water has to be nearby and he needs to wash this blood from his skin. He does hear it and heads off in its direction, dragging the boy along beside him.

He pauses beside the riverbank and looks up as the moon breaks free of its cloud bank. It's not a full moon; he would not be out tonight if that were the case. He still remembers his encounter with the werewolves with a sense of disbelief and a tremor of fear. The moon is strong enough to flood the glade with light and he looks back to the boy he still holds on to. He lets go of him, throwing him down onto the grass at his feet. The boy rolls onto his back and looks up at him. Hal stares at him.

"If you run, I will be forced to catch you and you will not like the consequences of your actions." He warns in a low voice. The boy doesn't answer. He knows very well what those consequences will be.

The water feels cool against his skin as he sluices the blood away. After a moment or two he moves back and sits on the grassy bank. He turns his head in the direction of the boy and is almost surprised to see him still huddled there where he'd thrown him. The boy's eyes are still wide and terror filled.

"Did they treat you kindly?" Hal enquires and the boy just stares at him, as still as a statue. Hal regards him and rolls his eyes. "Your mother and your father…did they treat you kindly?" he clarifies and after a moment or two the little boy nods.

"I did not know either my mother or my father. Imagine that. I grew up in a detestable place, full of horror and depravity and cruelty and I had no one called mother or father to look after me." He looks away, across the river and his eyes go vague.

"I loved them and I hated them. I wanted them to love me but I hated that I needed them." he murmurs. He blinks and then looked back at the boy.

"Don't you see? I set you free from all of that. You have nothing more to fear, nothing more to dread. You can live your life as you see fit and not by how someone else decides. One day you will thank me." his voice is rough with conviction. The little boy stares at him and Hal frowns.

"While you were with them you were not safe…" he hisses at him. He moves to his knees and he crawls towards him and he doesn't notice how the boy cringes back. He stares into his eyes and grips his thin shoulders with strong fingers.

"Tell me that you understand." he whispers at him. He then freezes and his head snaps around, his eyes become as wide as the boy's as he listens. Did he hear the snap of a twig? The soft tread of a footstep? When he next looks at the child, his eyes are filled with fear.

"They're coming…" he hisses at him. He scrambles to his feet and at the same time he pulls the boy up with him. His entire body is rigid as his eyes seek them out.

"Oh God…we must hide…if they find us…oh God…" he turns.

The water is cold as he stumbles into the stream, ignoring the child he still holds onto. His eyes search the shadows, searching for ghosts.

"_Where am I going?"_

"_You'll find out when you get there. Your visitor is eager to meet you and that's all you need to know. You must be nice to him."_

"_No…please…"_

"_Don't be difficult now Hal…let's get inside."_

_He turns his head; terror makes his heart pound in his breast. His eyes are wide and he can barely breathe. He rears back when he sees the man. He's seen him several times before, he likes a drink but he doesn't touch the whores. He wrenches his arms free, the sudden strength catching his captors unaware and they release their hold on him. He runs, barely aware of the thump of footsteps close behind him. He has to get away; the uppermost thought in his mind is that he must escape. He staggers and clatters down the wooden staircase, his eyes seeking shadows and safety. He finds it; he sinks into it, down. He's gone._

* * *

Maria hears the sound of horse's hooves and relief floods through her. He's back, he's returned. She heads out of the house towards the stable block, bearing a lantern. She's in time to see him dismount.

"Hal!" she calls and he spins around and watches as she hurries towards him.

"Where have you been?" she hisses. She stops in front of him and brings the light close to his face. He moves back and she sees his bloody shirt. She takes a step towards him and touches the sleeve.

"Why is your shirt wet?" She looks down and realises that he's completely soaked through and the frown deepens. "What have you been doing?" She looks into his eyes and sees his damp hair.

"It is no business of yours what I've been doing Maria." he retorts and his abrupt tone makes her blink.

"You disappear on Achilles the night before we depart for England and you tell me it's no business of mine?" she retorts archly.

"Did you think that I'd run away like a scared child?" he demands scornfully.

"The thought did cross my mind." she admits and his eyes narrow.

"I appreciate your _trust_ in me and in truth I contemplated it but as you can see, I came back."

"Soaking wet and covered in blood, so obviously you discovered some sport on your journey." She watches how the strangest of lights flickers in his eyes before it is swiftly extinguished.

"I did and now I must take care of Achilles and retire to my chamber, after all tomorrow promises to be a _momentous_ day." His voice drips with sarcasm and she just stares at him. He nods to her and takes hold of Achilles's reins and with a click of his tongue, leads him back into the stable.

* * *

He strips out of his clothing, dried to an uncomfortable cool dampness and clammy against his skin. He sits on the side of his bed and as he hauls off his ruined boots, he knows that sleep will not claim him tonight.

_Tomorrow, we leave tomorrow._ The thought plods steadily through his mind. He thought that he could outrun it, that by never returning to England's shores he could escape it. He realises now that he'll never be free and the best way to achieve absolute freedom is to face his nightmares head on. He needs to revisit and once that is achieved then and only then can he move forward.

Snow and Wyndam want him polished and educated to a superior level of inhumanity. They want him to be extraordinary, a man to be feared, a vampire of legend. He takes a deep breath but frowns at the level of discomfort that revelation brings him.

As he'd watched the drowned corpse of the small child float away from him, only one revelation occurred to Hal Yorke.

That he wanted to be free.


	19. Chapter 19

**Many thanks for the lovely reviews. :) I think the theme for this chapter is loyalty. All errors are my own and unintentional. Love to hear your thoughts.**

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen.**

His eyes feel heavy and scratchy as he slowly makes his way down the stairs. He's exhausted but Frederick woke him up with a knock on his door with a summons from Wyndam. No doubt he will want to talk about his vanishing act last night. It makes him frown. He didn't run away, he came back so he doesn't understand why he should need to speak with him unless he wishes to reprimand him like a naughty child.

He is not in the mood for any kind of censure this morning.

Even at this hour of the morning the household is busy. People are rushing about, making last minute preparations for the journey, making sure that nothing is forgotten and that the house is closed down again until the next time Wyndam arranges to visit. He dodges around the busy servants, breaking his fast the most uppermost thought in his mind. He wonders whether he can sweeten Ginny into finding him something nice to eat in the middle of this organised bedlam. He takes no real notice of the comings and goings as he heads toward the kitchen.

He sits alone at the trestle in the kitchen with a meal of bread and cheese in front of him and a cup of milk beside the plate. He surprised Ginny with the request for milk rather than wine or small ale but she didn't ask why and even if she had, he wouldn't have explained. He is in the mood for milk this morning. It helps to sweeten his mood somewhat and brace himself for whatever Wyndam has in store for him. There are times when he has dined extraordinarily well and there are also times when he's been happy with a simple meal of bread and cheese and this morning is one of those days. The bread is soft, the cheese mild and creamy and the milk delicious and cold. He reaches for his cup for another mouthful.

"Well well well, so you're who Alexei created on that battlefield." The voice is quiet even within the otherwise empty room but Hal straightens all the same, a finger of ice tracking down the length of his spine. He carefully places the cup he'd been drinking from back down onto the table and with deliberate slowness he turns his head in its direction. He's a tall man, thin, with greying hair and pale coloured eyes. Hal swallows at the mention of Alexei's name.

"You knew him?" he enquires politely. The man slowly enters the quiet kitchen, his arms behind his back and he nods slowly.

"I did, very well. I also know William; perhaps you've met him too?" He watches Hal carefully and he sees by the subtle shift of expression on his face. Hal turns in his seat so that the trestle is behind him. He doesn't stand up and instead he waits for him to approach him.

"Briefly. You, though, have me at a disadvantage." Hal answers.

The man pauses in front of him. He regards him, his pale green eyes skimming over his face. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Xavier…I'm the…burgher of this town I suppose you could call it. I hold it; control it for Mr Snow and indirectly for Mr Wyndam too. You must be Hal Yorke." A faint smile of satisfaction drifts across his face and his eyes widen slightly in appraisal. The hairs at the back of Hal's neck lift and prickle at the examination. The older man is looking at him as if he's unable to believe his eyes. He doesn't move as Xavier slowly lowers himself down onto the bench beside him, not once breaking eye contact.

"You _are_ a handsome boy aren't you? Alexei always did have an eye for them." His voice is low and secretive as his eyes rake Hal up and down in an open, predatory manner which makes Hal clench his fists in his lap.

"What do you want?" he keeps his voice equally low. Xavier regards him for a moment longer, that strange half smile on his face.

"Well _officially_ I'm here to bid Lord Wyndam a suitable farewell, protocol requests it you see. Mr Snow gets very upset if any of his underlings are snubbed but unofficially…" his voice fades away and Hal raises his eyes to his face.

"Unofficially I was very curious about you. Lord Wyndam mentioned you in passing at our most recent gathering, said you were his latest protégé and that you ended your sire's life but that you would not tell him why." His voice is silky and heavy with insinuation. Hal doesn't respond.

"But I can imagine why…I've heard that you're quite…_spirited_. I like that." He lowers his voice to a whisper as he leans in closer. He reaches out and places a hand on Hal's shoulder. To anyone observing them it looks innocent, paternal almost. Hal tenses as the hand strokes the length of his shoulder and then slides upwards to touch the side of his face, his thumb tracing the bow of his lower lip. Slowly but deliberately, Hal pulls his head away. Xavier smiles at him.

"Things are going to change very soon young Hal, so it would pay for you to be nice to me. We could come to a beneficially _mutual_ agreement you and I. I could offer you so much…" Xavier moves closer to Hal, his mouth beside his ear. Slowly Hal turns so that he's facing Xavier more fully on. He stares into his pale eyes.

"And why do you think I would be interested in anything that you could have to offer me when my patron is an Old One, second only to Snow himself?" he replies in a low voice. Xavier's eyes scan his face and his smile falters very slightly. It's the opening that Hal needs and he retaliates instantly.

* * *

He half rises from his seat as he lunges forward and wraps one hand around Xavier's throat and with lightning quick reflexes he forces him back and down. Xavier's head connects hard with the wooden surface of the trestle, making the plate and cup already there jump and rattle. With his other hand, he pulls out his knife. Ever since Maria came across him looking at it, he's taken to wearing it in the small of his back as he used to. He stands over Xavier as he presses the sharp point against his cheek and applies just enough pressure so that a bead of blood swells around the tip. Xavier's eyes widen briefly in alarm.

"I'd be very careful if I were you…" he wheezes and Hal leans down and glares at him.

"Why? Because you're somebody _important_ in this town? You're a disgusting specimen Xavier, you and Alexei…what you do, how you do it…you sicken me and I think that I'd be doing this world a_ great_ service in ridding it of you. You are not as important as you like to think! You're not like Wyndam, you can and will be replaced!" he hisses back at him.

"You end me and you will be in great trouble mark my words and not from your master." Xavier gasps as Hal growls, baring his teeth and tightening his grip around his throat.

"Do you think that I truly care? I _ended_ my sire; I murdered another older vampire who tried to make a fool out of me. I am not concerned about you sir, your high opinions of yourself or your ambitions. You are nothing to me." He raises his arm, wielding the blade and it's then that he hears the rush of hurried footsteps and a pair of arms come around his upper body and hauls him away from his quarry. He yanks himself free, snarling at the interruption like a caged beast.

"Hal! _Enough_!" Wyndam's voice is loud and authoritative. Hal becomes obediently still, the breath heaving in his lungs. He glances over his shoulder at Louis who stands guard over him before returning his attention to Wyndam.

"This has nothing to do with you…" he hisses at him. Wyndam pauses in between Hal and Xavier and he turns and he glares at his charge for a moment before he turns his attention to Xavier.

"You're here very early Xavier. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he enquires politely. Xavier has got to his feet. He straightens dishevelled clothing and wipes at the trickle of blood on his cheek. He stares at Hal for a moment.

"I _was_ here to bid you and your party a safe trip home and then I saw just how busy you were preparing for your departure. I caught a glimpse of young Hal here and I remembered how you spoke of him at your meeting so I thought to make myself known to him, to introduce myself. You didn't tell me how rude and stand offish he was Lord Wyndam, you saw for yourself his reaction to me." He curls his lip at Hal who lunges towards him only for Louis to grab onto him again and restrain him. Wyndam turns to look at Hal and his eyes are as cold as ice.

"Hal…contain yourself. I do not approve of this behaviour from you to a guest in my home." he warns him.

"He is lying to you…he made insinuations…he _knew_ Alexei…" Hal defends hotly.

"Well of course he did, like me he has connections and friends…" He watches how Hal shakes his head.

"Not like _that_." he hisses. Wyndam stares at him for what feels like a long moment.

"You forget yourself. Apologise to Xavier and that will be an end to it." he replies. Hal glares at him.

"I will do no such thing sir. Punish me as you see fit but I'll be damned if I will speak to that creature again." He shakes himself free of Louis's grip and turns to leave the kitchen.

"Such an inconsiderate pup Lord Wyndam and a teller of such monstrous lies." Xavier's voice is low and affronted as Hal heads towards the kitchen exit.

* * *

Hal stops dead in his tracks and it's as though a red mist has fallen in front of his eyes. He spins and strides back towards the small group. As he does so, he yanks Louis's sword from its scabbard and holds it firmly in his right hand. Both men turn in his direction and Xavier's eyes widen at the expression of determination on the younger vampire's face. He grabs hold of Wyndam, his forearm around his throat and pulls him in front of him. Hal stops dead.

"Not another step!" Xavier warns and it's then Hal notices the wooden stake that he has pressed against Wyndam's side. "I will use it." he threatens. Hal's eyes widen and he looks to Wyndam. He is unmoving, still and not at all perturbed.

"You are signing your death warrant." Hal hisses at him and Xavier grins at him.

"Do you really believe that Hal? There are plans underway for a change and I offered you a way to join us, there is still time for you to change your mind," he reminds him. Hal frowns at him.

"Ah yes…would that be the plan to unseat me?" Wyndam interrupts and Hal watches the shock bloom in Xavier's eyes.

"You didn't truly think I was oblivious to your behind the scenes machinations did you? I think you overestimated yourself Xavier, there are few secrets in our world that I'm not privy to." Wyndam's voice is steady. He looks to Hal and there is no fear there.

"How?"

"I was suspicious when you claimed not to have heard of Hal. You were great friends with Alexei, you would have kept in touch and yet you claimed not to have heard of him or the story that he killed him. Everyone has heard that tale Xavier, the fledgling vampire who killed his maker? But then you gave me the biggest clue as to why, dropping the smallest of hints, prudently mentioning the rumours you'd heard about Alexei but careful to keep yourself out of it of course but you knew, you always knew. Always obliging and behind the scenes, always indispensable, the perfect clerk." The dart hits its mark as Hal sees his eyes narrow at the insult. His arm tightens around Wyndam's throat, pulling him back.

"You're in no position to throw around insults anymore Wyndam." he hisses against his ear and he presses the tip of the stake deeper into his side. Hal watches Wyndam wince very slightly and his hand tightens on the hilt of the sword he holds.

"You're like a spider, spinning your webs and holding onto the lion's share of the power. Where's your fire, your brutality? I'm tired of bowing and scraping to the likes of you." Xavier continues to snarl. Hal watches as Wyndam smiles and it is as cold as a midwinter's night.

"Because waging all-out war against either the werewolves or even the humans is not the way to do things. The gathering of information and the acquiring of knowledge is power Xavier, blood shed is just the final entertainment. The webs that I spin are the ones that keep us in control above the dogs and the humans. I have earned my power, my respect. You were always jealous, hidden behind your greasy obedient smiles but I saw it. Remember what I said about jealousy Hal." His voice is quiet, made slightly hoarse by the strength of Xavier's grip but his gaze is steady on Hal's face. The smile fades as Xavier tightens his hold once more. Xavier looks at Hal.

"I think we should ask our young Hal his opinion of the matter. What do you say sir? Shall we end him here, in the kitchen of all places with his household as witnesses? Would you like the honour of doing it? His past protégés all hated him, you should ask Robert what he thinks of him, in fact if he were here at this moment in time then he'd do the job himself." he sneers.

Hal's eyes slowly widen.

"You are truly insane. You do this and you will not walk out of this house alive." he breathes. Xavier's eyes gleam as he stares back at him.

"You forget, I command this town Hal not Wyndam, the vampires here will do as I say!" he retorts. Hal shakes his head.

"The vampires will do what Mr Snow says and once he finds out what you have done he will hunt you down and kill you himself without guile or remorse."

Xavier chuckles.

"Times are changing Hal and you have to choose which side you're on. This town will be the first, others will follow and eventually Snow himself will be under threat." he grins. Hal stares at Wyndam, at his impassive expression. He looks to Xavier once again and he smiles.

"If I do this...what will happen to me?"

"Nothing. You will be taken care of and protected. We are a small but loyal circle but we take care of our own. You will be richly rewarded of course." He sees how he looks back at Wyndam and he sees the indecision in his eyes. "As of right now you're under the control of this tyrant. You will be treated worse than vermin. With us you will be treated like a prince." He watches how Hal goes still, a calculating gleam in his eyes and he slowly smiles in triumph. Hal returns his attention to Wyndam once again.

"And what about our conversation of earlier?" he asks as the two vampires stare at each other.

"It is completely forgotten. The slate is wiped clean." Xavier assures him.

Hal takes a deep shaky breath and then gives a nervous little laugh.

"What you're suggesting is treason and goes against all that is held dear to our existence. We will be hunted to the ends of the earth by his acolytes." He can't tear his eyes away from Wyndam's. They burn brightly, challenging him but he doesn't reply. He does not look afraid. Slowly Hal smiles and his eyes flick up to Xavier's face. "But then I have never been any good at doing what I'm supposed to. And I am particularly good at hiding when I need to." He lowers his sword to the floor and slowly he moves closer to the two men. His gaze is clear and steady as he holds out a hand.

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" Xavier asks. Hal looks back at Wyndam. The room is in absolute silence.

"As you have said, times are changing my Lord Xavier and I need to make my decision." Hal answers calmly. Wyndam watches him, his gaze vivid. Hal feels the stake being placed in his hand and he curls his fingers around its girth, testing its weight. He lifts it and presses the tip against Wyndam's heart. Nobody moves, nobody dares to breathe.

"I'm sorry my Lord." he whispers. He grips the stake tightly then turns and swiftly drives it into Xavier's chest. He watches how his eyes widen with shock and pain.

"But I've already chosen my side." he tells him and watches grimly as he fades and collapses into dust. Then he turns to look back at Wyndam who brushes the dust of Xavier from the front of his doublet. He comes to stand beside Hal and together they look at the pile of clothing at their feet for a moment. Hal looks at Wyndam to see him observing him.

"Did you ever doubt my decision?" Hal asks. Wyndam inclines his head slightly.

"I saw how you weighed the situation up, thought about your choices and the consequences of them. You don't trust anyone Hal but I am glad that you chose to trust me more than you would trust Xavier."

"I don't know Xavier."

"And in truth Hal, you don't know me either but you made the right decision." He pauses delicately before he looks once more at Hal. "Your reaction to Xavier was extreme Hal, perhaps reminiscent of how you despatched of your maker?"

He waits.

* * *

Maria hurries down to the kitchen, one of the kitchen maids at her heels. She squashes down the emerging panic at the information the young red haired girl had given her. Edgar was being held hostage by a guest. What on earth was going on?, she will rip the perpetrator limb from limb.

She's slightly out of breath as she halts at the entrance to the kitchen and she sees Edgar and Hal seated at the trestle. Hal has his back to her, Wyndam is sipping from a goblet, his eyes on his face, listening intently to whatever it is Hal is saying. He catches sight of her and their eyes meet for a moment. Hal turns in his seat and upon seeing her, he stands up, following Wyndam to the entrance. Maria's eyes are wide.

"What on earth has been going on? You were being held hostage? By whom?" her voice is thick with outrage. Wyndam smiles calmly at her.

"It was by Xavier… and the matter has been resolved, there's no need to upset yourself further." he placates. He sees the glimmer of temper in her green eyes.

"Xavier? How dare he? I have a good mind to teach him a lesson he'll never forget!" she snarls and Wyndam smile remains at her loyalty. He reaches out and touches her arm.

"As I said, the matter has been resolved." He glances at Hal and it's then that Maria sees the grainy dust that is still sprinkled here and there across the shoulders of his doublet.

"Very well." she acquiesces and sees how Wyndam stares at her and her eyes narrow in suspicion.

"What are you thinking about?"

His smile widens.

"All in good time my dear. All in good time."

* * *

It is later in the day and the sun is setting. Wyndam emerges from the house into the large gardens, towards Maria who is seated alone on a solitary stone bench. Their departure to England has been delayed by a day as Wyndam sends messages to Snow and other contacts warning them of a possible rebellion in their midst and also his choice for Xavier's successor. He hopes that Mr Snow will approve of his suggestion. He knows that he does.

Maria watches him approach.

"You were supposed to be setting sail today." she tells him once he's within hearing distance. She watches as he lowers himself down on the bench beside her. He looks in the direction of the harbour and he smiles to himself.

"If Xavier hadn't decided to mount his idiotic rebellion then we would be. We leave tomorrow instead, another day doesn't matter."

"I can imagine Hal approved of the delay." she quips and he turns his head and he looks at her. For a little while he doesn't speak and she frowns.

"You're doing it again," she reminds him and he widens his eyes slightly.

"What is it do you think I'm doing my dear?" he enquires and she rolls her eyes.

"You're plotting something. I recognise that look, when an idea all of a sudden comes to you, the answer to all your prayers. You're doing it now and it's making me nervous." she informs him and he chuckles.

"You know me well my love. Yes I am plotting and would you be surprised if I said that it involved you?" He watches as she shakes her head.

"Not in the slightest. So what are you planning?" He turns more fully in her direction.

"I've decided that you should be Xavier's replacement. I've written to Mr Snow to announce it." he tells her and watches her eyes round in shock.

"Me?" she breathes. He regards her calmly.

"Yes, you. Why not? You will be perfect in the position. You have age, cunning, you are ruthless when you have to be and possess sagacity and understanding when the situation requires it. Most importantly you are unswerving in your loyalty to me and to Mr Snow."

"Would Snow agree to my appointment, to be in charge of this town? Would the other council leaders?" she whispers.

"They will do whatever they are told to do and Snow trusts my judgement." he assures her. He sees how she takes it all in, thinks about the possibilities.

"Imagine the prospects Maria, the power you will possess. I'm just across the sea should you ever need my opinion on any matters, which you won't. You will watch the port and report to either myself or Snow on any happenings. You will be perfect, you'll have a court to worship you as the queen that you should be." He touches her face and his smile grows gentle. "And you will have my everlasting respect and undying admiration." He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss on her forehead. The tenderness of the embrace makes her blink. He watches her for a little while and sees the surprise begin to wear off and be replaced by that calculating glint that he's very familiar with. Slowly and knowingly he smiles.

"Though you don't need to, think on it a little while." he whispers and she stares steadily at him. He slowly rises to his feet and he holds out an arm.

"Walk with me awhile?" he invites and she rises to her feet and slides her hand through his arm, her hand resting on the crook of his elbow. They begin to walk. The evening is pleasant, the heat of the day easing off though the air is still heavy in its wake.

"You seem sure that I will accept this position." She begins and he glances at her.

"Have I misjudged you after how many years? I don't think that I have but I have been warned countless times of a woman's fickle nature." He laughs and pretends to wince as she pokes him in his ribs with the fingers of her other hand. He looks at her as he hears her sigh.

"You're right as you always are. I do want it; it's the chance of a lifetime for someone like me." Wyndam pauses and he looks at her.

"You have earned it and I do not reward just anyone for loyal behaviour. If you're worried about people not falling into line, then I can help but somehow I don't believe that will be a problem. You are perfect for the job; you know it so seize it." He sees the faint smile that crosses her face and he knows that he has her. They continue to walk again and a companionable silence drops between them for a moment or two.

"You and Hal seemed deep in conversation earlier this morning." Maria comments as they walk past trees and shrubs and rose bushes heavy with blooms, their scent thick on the still air. She sees how he glances at her.

"We were. I think Hal finally decided to trust me just a little bit. We had the most interesting conversation about his life in London before he was turned."


End file.
